What am I thinking about?
Hmmm what is actually love? Can you define it through a perfectly logical and
coherent sentence? I don’t think so... then there rises the next question: ''How
can we really define love?''.
There are moments when you smile with apparently no reason…
still, that reason is buried somewhere deep in your mind: it is just the
thought that you love, only the thought about that person can stretch a little
the facial muscles into the expression of a smile, of the melancholy. You see a
strip of grass with a tiny dew drop on it.. or you see a deserted bench, or a
lonely path... and your mind takes you away, in a somewhat parallel, fantastic
world… where you don’t feel the burden of the daily worries as if they were a
pointy huge rock in your frail back, a world in which everything melts away,
mixing perfectly with your senses, like in a spiral in which apparently the
colors mix together at some point and the chaotic lines make you feel dizzy.
When people tell you that you look as if you were sleeping or that you are
absent minded, then they can never be more wrong, because in that exact moment,
in electrons around the nucleus. The
difference is that all your thoughts don’t have a well-shaped meaning, they
fly, not having a nucleus and they run away they hide and they let themselves
to be seen and they fight.
Love can also be felt like a very hot drop of the sweetest,
sourest and the bitterest beverage in the world, a drop which touches your
lips, making them dizzy, it makes the tip of your tongue tremble with
excitement, your neck to stiffen, your chest to breathe chaotically, and it
reaches your stomach, where it pours a box of butterflies, or any other insects
with many legs and much energy, a creature which makes your stomach twitch, it
makes it feel an empty spot so pleasant that it might even surprise you. That
drop might slip sweetly on your body curves to your knees, which it melts
easier than acid melts the matter. The only comparison would be the reciprocal
touch of the lips, of the tongue which is trying to explore, pressure which
melts anything in its way… matter, reason, reality, words… In its trip on your
body, the drop touches unwillingly areas very powerfully crossed by nervous
terminations, easy to excite, making it tremble with the slightest touch,
making it want a bit more… and more.. and more.. now…
You can feel on your hand, in your hair, on your clothes
and on your chest the aroma of the last kiss… maddening your senses with sweet
tempting hallucinations. You can feel it when you sleep, so real that you can
hug your pillow being certain that it is him. It is a perfume which dag so deep
in your mind and heart memories which keep pouring butterflies in your stomach,
a perfume which you cannot easily forget. You can smell it on your fingers,
which not long ago clenched in his hair, on his neck, in the attempt to attract
him into your kiss like in a spider web… with no way out. You can touch your
lips with your pointing finger, trying to feel once again a grain of his kiss…
in vain. You suddenly wake up with an acute pain in your lower lip, realizing
that it is the very you biting that lip, in the desperate attempt to feel that
kiss again. why do you like so much his perfume impregnated on your being?
Maybe because it is a proof of reality… a grain of reality which stirs waves
and blizzards of thoughts. It is a proof that you were happy, that for a while
you mixed the dreamland with the reality, making dreams materialize within a
kiss… it is still a perfume which will haunt your nights and that will build a
dream for each second of the night and of the mind stray. Have you ever heard about synesthesia? It exists in this situation, more
vivid than in any poetry… it is the moment when you feel his scent and in the
same time you feel a hand on your back, a chest breathing in the same rhythm
with yours, you feel your breasts pressed slowly on his chest, and you feel the
sweet pressure of his kiss, the lips moving slowly, playing with yours, his
tongue slowly and tenderly looking to unite with yours.
It is strange how some things which seemed so trivial
before, now mean so much more for you now. A rusty train rail, which you
avoided in the past may become an universe of games and sweet teasing, filled
with meaningful looks, and a poor old bridge, deserted, may become the place
from where derive your most tempting thoughts, thoughts which make you bite
your lips with lust and nostalgia. A very unpleasant image, of a degraded train
station that had been wrinkled by time, can become an image which lights up in
you a fire able to burn even the last rational bit of your mind, invading it
with pictures of few seconds of the past which you want to relive again… and
again…
Why does a song make you think about him, making you want
him with every inch of your tiny being? A single sound reminds you of your hand
slowly going down his slightly sweaty back, moving in the rhythm of his
irregular breath, your fingers sinking their nails into his warm skin, stinging
him enough to make him want you more and more, carefully biting your lower lip.
His touch on your naked chest can make your body burn in lust, while his hand,
gently moving on your spine, could give you shivers. You maybe want this moment
never to end, never to escape his touch… yeah… that’d be great…
thank yoooooou!!!! Soon :D
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