Dancing in the wind, breathing in the spicy and musky cologne, your chest against my breast, bursting into ecstasy, strong hands cupping my face, slowly drawing your lips close to mine and kissing slowly, then developing speed, like a trial riff of guitar, short sparks; crackling in to lightening later.
Laughing at the lead singer, who is high, he introduced himself as Mr. Alien, and at nothing at all, pure bliss has finally made a pact with our souls. Lift me up, so I can see them singing gloriously, performing more fitting, bass thumping, electric jolts across my body, fingers electrified, heart stupefied, held, suspended in the perfect beat, captured in that elated moment.
KISS ME, kiss me now ,here comes the perfect line, the stanza inscribed on my lips like you name, sung countless times in the mustang on the way to Ireland, in the candy shop while gulping down all the pumpkin lattes we can consume. You were born a day after Halloween, crooked lights, gleaming against the backdrop-the moonless night, neon signs flashing across the barren land, filling up with iridescent rays, jumping, like the drumbeats seeping through our veins.
Like the sound of that pink Floyd song, you belted out, at karaoke bar last night, lyrics exploding out of your lungs, tearing apart my heart at 3 am:”You're the kind of girl that fits in with my world.
I'll give you anything, everything if you want things”: Sky colored red velvet, with stars like sequins hanging from miles above, Polaroid perfect.
Your heart pumping rapidly, against mine, bringing me back from the trance, your lips mould against mine, tongues swimming across the shorelines of my molars, arms tucked around my waist, lowering, caressing my hips.
Notes of piano, gliding through, an intro to another song. I promise, you’ll be the only song, I know word to word. All the beats and spaces in between etched on my heart. Your lips, the desired stanza, taste like cinnamon and pine, reminding of my childhood, a memory of us on the slide, giggling, holding pine cones preciously like Davy Jones locker, our first treasure.
It’s been years, but our love has grown, blossomed in into an everlasting flower never fading but always steady and strong like the chorus of a rock ballad, an intense melody like our promises lighting up the lyrics and us.
can i call this a prose?i hope you enjoy it,let me know what you think,i have never written anything like this before.i really would like constructive criticism.