In that split second of conceited indulgence, time stood still in a blasphemous epiphany, the music ceased and the background noise faded into nothingness.
As we played Merrily into the dashing arms of oblivion, my glass near empty and my cigar near burnt out.
Our voices echoed in vibrato.
Our words, our will was law
Lost in a wonderland of possibilities.
The stories told themselves, and the bickering sparks did our bidding.
We clutched each other or the very thoughts of ourselves.
Antique bottles of the finest wines
The aroma of vintage cigars and rich perfume filled the air, the music returned
Slowly but just as powerful.
But no moment shall compare to those eternal seconds, our eyes were locked and my only thought was if your lips tasted of the same liquor you do violently downed.
We were all that were.
YOU ARE READING
Mephisto's Anthology
Puisia collection of old poems written by a younger version of myself I stumbled upon these recently and felt like Putting them out there. And I've been adding more to the collection whenever inspiration strikes They aren't properly punctuated Or writte...
