It was summer fifteen when he came to Louisiana. This summer was indeed aflame and spontaneous despite hysterical storms and glacial water filling the azure pools; anyways we went swimming everyday, and the wearisome weather didn't prevent us from walking towards crosswind. I enjoyed being close with this young springloaded man who had a soul of a fresh morning espresso. Like a shot of the drink, he woke me up bringing me back here. I remember how his lips used to reach out my back turning the world into dust. No one, only us and his strong smell of coffee. We were kissing under the sparkly constellations watching stars sinking into the darkness of eternal beautiful nights. I loved his solid rough hand touching mine soft and miniature. We spent hours looking in our shabby binoculars pursuing lonely streets with their rare drowsy pedestrians. By the time, his cold gaze froze my breath making my heart to nervously palpitate, I could feel tension and relief instantly. My hesitations broke me down, I tumbled pulling my thoughts together. I felt his absence then, it was his own way say good bye or better to sneak away. Now I feel that he was only a beautiful ethereal dream who let me touch his unreal contemplation. September first, I found a good-luck-charm under my tattered pillow representative a golden star. I sobbed for days after this trove holding the only remnant after the indelible summer 15. I can still feel his kisses spreaded along my pale neck. Sometimes, his silhouette appears against the moonlight.
I miss you, forever & always.
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Series of Descriptions: The Walk
Non-FictionThis is one piece from the series of my descriptions called "The Walk." Thank you for reading and leaving your comments:) Warm wishes, -Arina N.