Nothing Passing

I stand relaxed and ready. The bedroom door fading out the sound of house mates as it closes. The seconds warp and begin to drip by like melting icicles. The room is sparse and lightly decorated.  Silence falls with delightful warmth as she turns away from me, moving slowly towards the bed and teasingly sliding off her dark rayon dress. Her hair, jet black and shiny after a hot shower. The water still evaporating off her skin.

What if my passing mood was to change our path, to lay broken bricks ahead, bruising our feelings. My mumbled words piercing through a colourless fable? What if I spoke of another name, for sure the moment would decline in temperature, frozen with uneasy thoughts. Evidently this passing mood is but a mere thought of tragedy.

Her emotions are transparent; tranquil is this moment as the candles flicker. Almost complete is the night. Her warm cotton body presses against my own. No doubt she is beautiful. Her dark crystal eye’s gazing up at me. Her kiss is cold, but sweetly soft carried with this thought.

I am quiescent, my confidence ebbing away. These blocks of thoughts are potent to both mind and body and trap me within these four walls. I withdraw for a moment and let time and thought circulate in silence as her figure of sheer beauty undresses me gently.

What if she doesn’t even care?!

She smiles. The moonlight slices through the shabby green curtains illuminating the bed filled with scattered rose petals. The candles flash unnoticed to their free melody creating a serene dim lighting which moulds into the mood of lustful selfishness.

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