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idle muse · 2008-03-21T23:55:09Z

I wrote this a rainy Thursday night for a friend. And yes, I deliberately didn't give either of them names, in case anyone was wondering. They're eyes met across a party. It was dark, and techno music pulses incessantly in the background. Neither fit in, they both knew that within seconds of seeing each other. Him, with his long coat and mysterious allure, and him, sitting by the corner, wishing he was at home with a book. Both young, both confused, both searching for the answers to the questions that plagued the deepest recesses of their minds. It's beautiful. It always is. They're lips meeting, knowing the sheer thrill of forbidden pleasure, both loving the excitement and the danger. Electricity danced between them, their eyes burning holes in each other. They moved with the music in the black closet, holding each other close, both knowing how their friends would react, their family. And neither caring. Each one lost in the other. It's unfair. It always is. Their tryst discovered, enduring the torment and humiliation. Suddenly friends turned away, and even teachers became cold and distant. Their families sat them both down, explaining to them in patronising tones that this was a phase, a challenge, something to be overcame. Both nodded obediently in acquiescence, both sneering inside. It's funny. It always is. Ten years later, a black tie reunion. Them, a lawyer and an academic, holding hands, dressed flawlessly in Armani. The rest, looking on jealously, hands clutching champagne glasses until the knuckles turn white. They smile and glance at each other, triumph playing in their eyes. The same place where they met, only fancier now, and gentle classical music floats through the auditorium. Before they know it they're dancing again, but in the centre of the room now, and all eyes are fixed on them. It's sad. It always is. He, the dark and mysterious stranger who captured his heart so many years ago, lies weak and helpless on the hospital bed. Blinking lights and the quiet humming of machinery are in the background. The radio blares out tinny music, the latest pop. They hold hands, both crying. They're lips meet one final time. Then he's gone, and his lover is left alone, never to dance with him again. It's life.

myfreindsavamp

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Points 2374

Reviews 118

Tue Apr 01, 2008 11:13 am

myfreindsavamp says... · Tue Apr 01, 2008 11:13 am

I was just wondering.....don't get me wrong though I do like it.
-em
I thought it was cute how they proved every onr wrong

We've all been broken in some way. It's just how we express it that makes us dffrent form eachother.

“This precious book of love, this unbound lover,
To beautify him only lacks a cover.”
~William Shakespeare, The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet

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ashleylee

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Points 1075

Reviews 842

Tue Apr 01, 2008 10:48 pm

ashleylee says... · Tue Apr 01, 2008 10:48 pm

You really did well with this one! I mean, you said you didn't give them names on purpose but I think they don't need names. You made it so it was better leaving them anonymous. It just seemed to flow better that way. I'm glad you didn't give them names!

I really don't have any nit-picks for you. There was nothing wrong with it that I saw so thumbs-up to you

"Woe to the man whose heart has not learned while young to hope, to love—and to put his trust in life."
~ Joseph Conrad

"Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life."
~ Red Auerbach

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idle muse

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Points 890

Reviews 25

Wed Apr 02, 2008 9:22 am

idle muse says... · Wed Apr 02, 2008 9:22 am

Thanks for all the positive feedback! It really is appreciated.

Religion is the opium of the masses
- Karl Marx -
Democracy is the worst form of goverment, except for all the others that have been tried.
- Winston Churchill -

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i love me some swole chickens
— yosh

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