[ honey ]
in and out i counted his soft breaths, while he ran his hands through his lustrous pale blue curls time and again, his fingertips - delicate and warm and me wanting his sweet touch, his soft voice whispering the most saccharine words and his pulsing pink lips touching my spine. my eyes lack lustre opposed to his scintillating ones trying to start a fire in my heart. to burn everything save his majestic existence down. these scraps of words are not enough to describe Victor Meyer, the ruler of my heart.
"hey,can I borrow a pencil? "
his warm voice beckoned me breaking the silence around me while I gazed into those soulful eyes that now looked so dead, deadbeat tired without those rings of golden guilding his irises. he looks at me waiting but not really looking deep into my soul like he did that night before where we shared those sticks of death that corrupt our already decadent lungs.
"fuck say something"
"i wish I could but no words can be right when it's you."
"whatever. do you have a fucking pencil or not?"
"no....i'm afraid i don't."
"........"
"................."
"do you always talk like that?"
"like what?"
"like you're fucking Byron or Shelley or something?"
"you can't possibly compare me to those gods of literature and yes I always speak like this. I'd like to call it the speech of the poetry nerds."
"you're kidding "
"how would you know?"
"your mouth twitched slightly indicating that you're lying, joking, most probably. it's kind of cute. "
"do you always talk like this?"
"huh? "
"like the words that roll of your tongue is tinged with the sweetest natural honey."
".........."
☀
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Translucère
Short Storytranclucère [ latin ] | trans-lu-cre | » to shine through » // translucent // not completely clear or transparent but clear enough for light to pass through *happens when incandescent badboy meets hapless poet* poetry/not poetry which has turned in...
