When the Son goes down, the first snippet of hair had long fallen, and so, the solitary moments of choking boredom in the room, defined by frozen pizzas, senseless chatroom conversations and TV programs, ended its torturous course. Houston days suddenly became much more bearable with the promise of passionate reunions, enlightening conversations and interactive meals.
When the Son goes down, this two-month-long journey has already exhausted its wonders, and so, the tireless heart makes one last attempt to register the various blissful sensations that have tickled its senses, from 6pm stubbles rubbed against the eager neck, from the welcoming body wrapped around longing arms, from playful fingers combing soft black hair and from longing lips roaming the reassuring curves of the shoulders.
When the Son goes down, all that was left behind was a solitary figure standing on the pavement on a breezy Tuesday night. Let the warmth of the last hug dissipate into the wind, allow for the final kiss to surrender its moisture into the air, banish the painful last moments of farewell and the sight of a departing car into the most remote corner of the memory, lock away pangs of guilt of meticulously stolen pleasures, but forever cherish the misty memories.
Memories that were Houston skies on these 2006 summer nights.
When the Son goes down, this two-month-long journey has already exhausted its wonders, and so, the tireless heart makes one last attempt to register the various blissful sensations that have tickled its senses, from 6pm stubbles rubbed against the eager neck, from the welcoming body wrapped around longing arms, from playful fingers combing soft black hair and from longing lips roaming the reassuring curves of the shoulders.
When the Son goes down, all that was left behind was a solitary figure standing on the pavement on a breezy Tuesday night. Let the warmth of the last hug dissipate into the wind, allow for the final kiss to surrender its moisture into the air, banish the painful last moments of farewell and the sight of a departing car into the most remote corner of the memory, lock away pangs of guilt of meticulously stolen pleasures, but forever cherish the misty memories.
Memories that were Houston skies on these 2006 summer nights.
BRAVEHEART [100]
3 comments:
ahh..warm shores and warmer carasses await you my friend..
whatcha gonne do when u r back?
Nice blog, very personalised of being who u are///
canardbidon:
ah.. yes real warm, we're talking over 30 degree celsius kinda warm. :D
roland:
Thanks! But sometimes i'm not sure if this is really who I am..
Post a Comment