Young Writers Society

[spoiler] this is courtesy of @defyingravity01 who gave me a ton of points because she is an incredible friends. [/spoiler]

Dim lamplight illuminates the room.

Pastel light creating a metamorphic puppet show

Against the white wall of your bedroom.

You hold your gaze over the rim of your wine glass;

Red lipstick print hazy beneath those white wine bubbles

Cascading towards the top before bursting into shudders of regret.

You eyelashes cast breeze across the stifling room;

The summer heat is close and reminds me of passion in the back seat of your car.

You bed is full of a mound of clothes:

Dresses, bras and skirts create a monument to hold someone upon in the moonlight.

Or perhaps it is a funeral pyre,

For passions to burn, the flames licking the ceiling as your kisses collide with collarbones.

Outside crickets and sirens make the city’s night time symphony.

A blazing orchestra of rural and industrial colliding in the 21st century.

You haven’t spoken in a while.

But there is enough noise here to keep the conversation going.

I’m slouched in your wicca chair on the far side of the room,

Whiskey in hand.

The ice has melted and that golden liquid has become a dilutated yellow.

My shirt lies crumpled of the floor,

My bare torso heaves as I think about you.

Those voluptuous curves.

Running my hands through your straight black locks.

Kissing your naval.

But I won’t move.

I’ll just sit,

Letting the air between us stagnate and pollute,

Alcohol and sweat into this summer perfume.

It captures the moment,

But we will not take it.

Embracing the silence we just stare,

thinking about what could be.

Assuming the imaginary experience of lust

Would be better than the experience itself.

You head lulls,

I smile.

The silence ensues and we just stare.