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revoluxionaryShe's nothing like Susan.
She's not as tall. He focuses on the superficial first because it's easier to dismiss. She's not as tall, and her hair is a shocking bright copper that's swept up in an elegant knot. Her eyes glimmer on the surface like emeralds long polished.
Her lips are nude, or touched only with a pale shimmer he can't quite see.
She chases him. She never pushes away. She smiles with a genuine sort of abandon and there's nothing haunting the corners, no ghosts or shades or terrors being held back. Her voice is like the babble of a river which runs without minding at all the stones in its path.
He tells himself he'll fall in love with her, because she's bright like a star he used to hold dear.
They don't dance until the second night she sees him. Her fingers are gentle on his sleeve, and there's a flush of champagne in both their cheeks when her quiet plying finally drags him out into the dancing. She's light on her feet--and she takes him by surprise once they're safely spinning and her sharp mind comes free from her tongue. Maybe all girls in this world live this way. Maybe they live with masks of nothingness because the something they all are will wreck the ships of men around them and swallow too deep the sailor souls they've drawn in close.
He seeks her out the next time. He kisses Susan's hand at the door and sets to actual wandering. He tells his mind his heart's skipped a beat when shining red hair and soft naked lips appear, when his arm is allowed again to slide comfortably around her waist while they sway.
He's quiet when he walks Susan home. His thumb smooths her pulse unconsciously when she asks to pause briefly in a park and they both get lost in the sky.
It's a month before his fingers tangle in copper hair, before nude lips lift to his with a simple request. He tries to love her as he kisses her. He tries to taste the starlight on her lips and feel at home with her pressed close. He tries again and again in the quiet dark corner they've found, nervous and shaking beneath the fingers on his cheeks and the lips chasing his.
He had fallen in love with a star, once. He had loved the star with his whole breathless heart. He sought that happiness again in a constellation of kisses he knew no name for.
But he found he pulled back cold. He found himself smiling down at the moon in his arms, no star at all. The taste of her lipstick was like a chill reminder that he had once kissed the sun herself, and that the sun's pale midnight reflection could never compare.
She's not as tall. He focuses on the superficial first because it's easier to dismiss. She's not as tall, and her hair is a shocking bright copper that's swept up in an elegant knot. Her eyes glimmer on the surface like emeralds long polished.
Her lips are nude, or touched only with a pale shimmer he can't quite see.
She chases him. She never pushes away. She smiles with a genuine sort of abandon and there's nothing haunting the corners, no ghosts or shades or terrors being held back. Her voice is like the babble of a river which runs without minding at all the stones in its path.
He tells himself he'll fall in love with her, because she's bright like a star he used to hold dear.
They don't dance until the second night she sees him. Her fingers are gentle on his sleeve, and there's a flush of champagne in both their cheeks when her quiet plying finally drags him out into the dancing. She's light on her feet--and she takes him by surprise once they're safely spinning and her sharp mind comes free from her tongue. Maybe all girls in this world live this way. Maybe they live with masks of nothingness because the something they all are will wreck the ships of men around them and swallow too deep the sailor souls they've drawn in close.
He seeks her out the next time. He kisses Susan's hand at the door and sets to actual wandering. He tells his mind his heart's skipped a beat when shining red hair and soft naked lips appear, when his arm is allowed again to slide comfortably around her waist while they sway.
He's quiet when he walks Susan home. His thumb smooths her pulse unconsciously when she asks to pause briefly in a park and they both get lost in the sky.
It's a month before his fingers tangle in copper hair, before nude lips lift to his with a simple request. He tries to love her as he kisses her. He tries to taste the starlight on her lips and feel at home with her pressed close. He tries again and again in the quiet dark corner they've found, nervous and shaking beneath the fingers on his cheeks and the lips chasing his.
He had fallen in love with a star, once. He had loved the star with his whole breathless heart. He sought that happiness again in a constellation of kisses he knew no name for.
But he found he pulled back cold. He found himself smiling down at the moon in his arms, no star at all. The taste of her lipstick was like a chill reminder that he had once kissed the sun herself, and that the sun's pale midnight reflection could never compare.
