As smoke curls into nothingness in the vast space of water ahead of us, you stare at me, with no hint of a smile. As I settle down into a peaceful revelry of a maze, with a glass of old monk, carefully structured mocking its origin, you look at me lovingly. The love, seeping from your eyes, and your face showing no trace of the peace that supersedes your heart.
At some point of the night, someone plays The Doors, and lackadaisically hands me a joint. As I pull the drug into me, you gaze at me, stern, watchful, careful of my every move.
I see you.
Which explains my waywardness and my total lack of control. I get up, only to tumble into your arms and laugh. Thence, I busy myself with my friends, while you embrace the music and the terrace. The terrace withholding the secrets of our sauntering kisses.
As I walk to you, in a trance unknown, here before, your quiet interlude has been interrupted. Brushed against, with no regard for space or peace.
You look away, slightly annoyed at my chutzpah, at my total lack of understanding. To make up for the same, I settle down, slowly onto you. You contest my indiscipline, but give in as I slowly find my place on you, rocking to the rhythm of James Morrison's strums.
And as we look into each other eyes, me sipping my old monk, you thinking of the transgression I brought in, we can't help but be consumed by the exponential growth of stillness in the air.
All there is to know, are a couple of answers hanging loose.
1) Did you cheat on me? No, I did not.
2) I'm so in love with you, I could die.
3) It's a little chilly in here, maybe, you should take me in.
And took me in, you did.
Into the arms, emanating a strong scent of familiarity and purpose.
And as I find you, all the way, from your eyes, to your hard chest, and the other places, waiting for my presence, you smile.
The smile of a deep sense of knowledge.
You know now. What lies in between,
and what doesn't.
P. S. The picture has been clicked by me. If you must use it, you take a permission, give credits, and do so.
