Thursday, November 17, 2016

Writing again - sort of

Excerpt from untitled WIP:

I kissed him goodbye, took a deep breath, and went ahead, so he wouldn’t see the tears in my eyes.

I preceded him out of the room, heard him walk away, with no more words to say.

I couldn’t watch as he parted the curtain and walked out of my life. Those brief moments spent together were some of the most exciting I’d ever experienced, and my heart broke to think that I would never see him again.

He lived the life I wished I could. No strings, no responsibilities except for himself. On days when life gets too rough, I know I’ll spend time wishing I could be that lucky, wishing I was with him.

He touched my life in the way he touched my body: with passion, flair, laughter and spontaneity. In the 24 hour period we were acquainted, I’d been more relaxed in my skin than I have been in 20 years. I found myself moving more freely, laughing with abandon, flirting with not a care in the world. I danced, I sang, I loved. I was free from all chains, all reality.

In 24 hours, I managed to fall in love; not with a man (completely, the jury is still out on that, as fucked as that sounds), but with life and it’s possibilities.  Yes, he was the catalyst for that. I knew it wouldn’t last, it couldn’t last, and I didn’t let myself think about it, because I know I’ll never feel that free again.

He made me long, he made me want, in ways I haven’t for a long time. He made me bleed love and life, and then injected me with it just as quickly as a junkie shoots heroine. He himself is a drug – quick acting, and just as addictive.

And just as painful to quit. Because I’m sure I will never see him again.

Do I regret our short acquaintance? Never. This was a time to live with no doubt, and no lies. It was the most honest I’ve ever been with someone, with the people around me. No reason to hold back, no reason to regret.

I will never claim to know him in any way. We barely spoke of anything of any importance. We barely knew each others names.

And even as my name and face fade from his memory the further away he gets, his will never fade from mine.

As Prince wrote – life is just a party, and parties aren’t meant to last.

Neither were we.

I hope to see him again. I hope that it’s before I’m too old to enjoy another night like the one we had. I hope, at some point, he looks back and remembers, even vaguely, our night, and it makes him smile.

Because I’ll never forget.

0 horny thoughts: