Beautiful Lovers

Some Things We Never Forget

I didn't think anything could be so ... beautiful.

Over the past few weeks, the snow stopped falling but I never stopped falling for him. He showed me the world. No. He gave me a whole universe.

The feeling when we laughed together ... I couldn't compare it to anything else. I felt light, like a feather, and Paris was my wind. We flew worlds together and enjoyed the freedom of our hearts.

We were fools who would rather be out of their minds than live without each other.

He could touch me again and again, and I would never get tired of the heat spilling over my body.

We didn't need lust to be dependent on each other. Like the most beautiful ecstasy wherever I look, he is there and I couldn't be happier.

I've never loved shadows more. I have never welcomed the darkness of our dreams with open arms and hearts more.

When we kissed I closed my eyes like I was falling asleep. Maybe it was because his lips tasted like the sweetest dreams.

Love had a new definition for me. I used to think it was a mad sense of desire, but now for me, every shadow, every gray corner, every bit of darkness meant to love. All the calmness of colors, every constant beating of my heart, and every echo of his I suddenly loved. Suddenly everything seemed loving to me because he was somewhere in this world. He could admire every building with those damn curious eyes.

So suddenly love tasted good. Sweet as his lips. Bitterly like our dreams. But gently like our tenderness. It tasted beautiful like our love.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked. I watched him from our bed, hunched over papers with lines I couldn't stop admiring. Even though he cursed and had to erase the black line, I couldn't find anything imperfect at that moment. After all, it was Paris, and when it came to Paris, everything seemed wonderfully ugly.

"About you. What else would I be thinking about?"

I knew he was trying to hide his smile. He couldn't hide the corners of his mouth twitching or the way his shoulders untensed. Suddenly he was not drawing impatiently, and his eyes were elsewhere. I knew him and he knew me. I belonged to him and he belonged to me.

"Hmm. Did you run out of questions?" I laugh and walk over to him. I knew he was no longer concentrating on his designs as his pencil slid down the paper.

I rest my chin on his shoulder and wrap my arms around him. He looked up at me. Hours of work and he didn't even move from that chair. Even his furrowed eyebrows seemed to have been carved in stone. I kissed his cheek. His breath hitiched and his hand squeezed mine.

"What exactly were you thinking about?"

I look into his eyes and, as always, I found what I am looking for. Always. Peace.

"How sweetly you look when you workd." I lied. I didn't want to lie or hide, but there were some things...

Paris kissed me softly. As if he just wanted to touch my lips to make sure I was real. I didn't have to make sure. Because even a dream couldn't be so beautiful.

"I still can't believe how lucky I am."

I laugh when he pulls me into his lap. Paris surrounds me with... him. And everything in important is here. I tangled my hands in his hair and he closed his eyes. And then I leaned in.

When my lips hit his I was lost. They were soft like his words and tender just as his touches. I was so deeply in love. We were happy. In our little world.

And I couldn't believe that I would take that happiness away from us.

...

I covered the sleeping Paris. He overdid it a bit today. I closed the blinds and let his room fill in darkness. I pressed a kiss to his hair.

He looked so calm. He didn't frown or smile. I'd like to think he wasn't smilling because I was not there to dream with him anymore.

I stroked his face and admire it, as I do at night, I found beautiful things that I could love on him.

But we both knew that even in the middle of a storm, I could see the sun in his eyes.

I partly wanted to lie down with him, but I wasn't not tired.

I smiled longingly at his calm face for the last time and stood up.

The kitchen was quiet. From behind Ben's door, I heard a pencil scratching at the paper, but otherwise, there was silence in the apartment.

After that, I looked away at Paris's closed door, my gaze falling on the tattoo hidden under a spell.
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Its like 3 in the morning and I'm drafting this.Am I crazy? Yes. But you'll go crazy too.

Vote. Comment. Reddit... Oh come on.

See you on Tuesday.

⁓SD