Your long black skirt is a midnight pool where its waters wash across your thighs, your hands splash in the black satin waves where they straighten the seams on your stockings. You can't be as young as you tell me you are, you're hiding extra lifetimes somewhere.
You sit on the bed swaying to the music, the candle flames gleaming in your eyes, your fingers dancing into minarets in the dark. You shake the rainy jewels from your hair like a night on the silk road a thousand dances ago.
And later on when you're sleeping I'll think of all this, and smile.
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4 comments:
Beautiful writing.
Beautiful writing. But when this child's parents find out it won't be pretty. Only assuming she's underage as she never stays over.
Put your mind at ease, Knight. While the woman in the piece is considerably younger than me, she is of legal age in every state, province and country that I know of. I only hope you get to meet someone as amazing and wonderful as she is.
Glad to hear it. And glad she makes you so happy. Fortunately for me I have someone just as wonderful.
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