|Lust. submitted 2009.10.17 04:55 AM by Symbolic_ viewed 2890 times|
|Leave your heart on auto pilot, slink into the back seat. We'll share a cigarette, we'll pontificate the universe then forget everything in between. Get lost in sword play, get lost in the wind and the webs woven by the fabrics dabbed in lime juice and stretched by time. |
"What about it?"
"I've always admired it you know" Takes a puff of the cancer stick then passes it
"Oh yeah? What about it do you admire?" Repeats previous process with cancer stick
"The fact that it's yours." Holds the cigarette and takes another puff
"What kind of answer is that?"
"Well it's yours, fact of the matter is nobody will ever have that body of yours and even if they did they couldn't orate the splendors or wonders in the same way you could. And even if they thought they could they'd just be a one hit wonder." Passes the cigarette
"I still don't quite follow" Holds the cigarette and takes a puff
"Then don't, I'm far too infatuated with that sexy body of yours to care of the inconsequential that comes with the philosophical."
"You always were the charmer."
That body, that body scarred by so much and so many. Every inch as exquisite and fascinating as the last. As I caress and admire, I like to pretend my hands haven't touched another human being in over thirty or forty years. I like to pretend your body is the first thing they felt since they were that of a child's. These hands, cut up bandaged, rough and broken. Your skin, soft and delicate, smooth and milky. Those lips so tender and accepting. Those eyes so innocent yet worldly. I admire and curse, as we begin those intimate moments, as we begin with closed hearts and open minds. At the mercy of our bodies desires, at the whim to recapture days of yore.
After all, you'll never be young twice, and you'll only grow old once.
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