The birds have flocked home and the fishing boats dock. Only the sound of the calm waters crawling to the shore only to get pulled back by the infinitesimal force of the ripples is palpable. Just like how I am being continuously restrained from tracing the outline of your lips, the curvatures of your dreaming smile, to your closed angel eyes, for I can't always be ogling at how marvelous a masterpiece you are before me, not even for a moment's worth. I get out of our entangled sheets, careful to not stir your resting body, and put on my flannel shirt and faded ripped jeans that you love having me in so much. Making my way to your room's veranda where the view of the harbor looks as though it were perfectly shaded with the oranges and blues, I recall the last time we had a frizzy fight. It was over melons and lemons and hoodies and jackets. You wanted the Ls for the cocktails we'd mix up and the Hs for the dance club. I wanted the opposites, if not a different variety. I just wanted to concur shakes or a glass of wine with melon slices and cuddle up with you under the stars, not sweaty in a dance club, drunk. You looked so aflamed that it beguiled me to the point that I just stared at you as you went on and on about why it was so much better to have your Ls and Hs over my Ms and Js. Your cheeks were flushed red and your eyes had that defiant spark one could compare to a sizzling live wire. You looked like a hot diva version of the Mona Lisa, if I must say, and I wanted you then the way a man lost in the desert was thirsty for water: desperately.
I look out into the sea and see the smaller waves riding the bigger ones, smiling a little to myself as I folded that memory away into my mind's farthest drawers in its corners. I glanced at you when I heard you sigh, afraid that I somehow woke you. I continue to look at the sky which is tinged with the beautiful glow of the sunset. Unlike many sunsets I have shared with you, this one is a keeper of dreams. I chance a glance at your sleeping form all curled up comfortably in the sheets and I blow a kiss your way hoping your dreams could catch it.
YOU ARE READING
An Anthology of Blacks and Reds (One-shots)
De TodoIt's about heartaches that are too painful to reminisce. It's about the trying times and twisted fates that give everyone the headaches. The memories left burned at the back of our minds that fuel us to keep going on with life.
