“If and when love happens to you and me, it will be special. It will shake our worlds upside down and lift up all the specks gathering on our shelves – up to the skies and let them rain down again.
Memories live in the past. If it is a present you want, and hopefully a future at her side, Don’t wait up. Hold her close and tell her You don’t want to look back.
“I started running ahead, daring him to follow me. I threw the towel down on my way, buying myself milliseconds on him – I knew he would not resist picking it up. He caught up, and grabbed me. Once. I barely escaped.
“I looked up at his chiseled face. He ran his hand on my wet hair and extended a kiss. As his lips brushed against mine, my eyes closed. Instantly. I was transported. He had the taste of sand and sunburnt skin.
“By bits and pieces your picture is forming in front of me Assembling words, images… and moments, My mind is patching you up. In the morning light, You see right through me and smile.” An Excerpt from Linger by B. – First published on Mug’s Tale
“My body and mind remember you, as if you had never left. Hints around me remind me of you being there The pillow in my room, where you lay your head While holding on to me, still holds your smell Prisoner, as if its material answered my prayer Letting a part of you stay here forever.
“The wind was brushing on my face. I was running as fast as I could, exhilarated by the empowering freshness of the air coursing through my lungs. The oxygen it contained was energizing me. I loved this forest, its feel, its sounds, its tastes.
A tiny voice in my head: “Nice to meet you! How do you do?” How nice it would be to hear that from you. Await I did – I watched – patient in my place, Knowing a lifetime chance might never present itself again. A single phrase to a stranger’s ear could make it real.
The party was long over, And though from that day on, On and off, I had been thinking of you, I knew those thoughts never meant to stay. Until one day, appeared a familiar face on a screen, Long forgotten souvenir of a winter night’s dream Parading as a timeless wink,
I need art to breathe, To feel alive, to steal, Instill life on my page. Captured, encrypted, twisted, Or untouched, untainted, merely observed. Surrounded, immerged, Overwhelmed, I feel whole, complete, And utterly serene.