She asked me, with a
Chirpy smile if I was going to
Get the latest mobile phone, not
Unlike the rest of them enquiring of
Other material goals and milestones
That signify a successful life.
Or do they?
Don’t get me wrong, there’s
Nothing wrong with seeking still
Greater gratifications, for
Life is already such a tedious chore
That surely a little indulgence –
Perhaps two – would lend meaning.
Or do they?
I tarried to explain that I already
Own the greatest treasure
One could ever have –
A soul unshackled by carrots of
The human race, living by its calling
Past the end of human days
So I just smiled and replied that
I have not that need, and pray one
Day, that their burdens be light
And their yoke easy.
I want to know you –
Your typical morning habits
What you totally hate eating
What you actually mean when
You don’t say a word, or do
Little things that often go
Unnoticed, except when time
Stands still, but time is
Never on our side, so
Before it’s too late
I want to know you.
Cooking is dangerous business –
In the process, one must face
The possibilities of being
Sliced by knives, splattered by oil
Even pierced by an unseen bone
Bloodied, blistered, and bruised
Yet we continue, without fear
For it is a miraculous sum of parts
And so is love.
He smiled from behind his shades
Raised a brow, cocking his head
Asking if I was coming on;
Alas, he’s not the one I was
Waiting for, so I shook my head and
Waved with a smile bright as day
To which he waved and returned,
A tad wryly, yet a smile nonetheless
Chanced, before we pulled away.
How eerily comforting to
Meet the one who shares your
Intensities, peeves and dark sides
A perfect mirror of one self
Familiarly strange, strangely familiar.
We hold beneath our
Skins, skewed perspectives but
Forget that, sometimes, like
All things in nature, they
For a brief, fragile moment
Before bursting from
In a parallel universe
We could be sitting before
Each other, taking in every
Nuance of our connection;
And our souls would meet
On such spiritual planes
That they would flow and
Weave us together again.
As the music began, she drew him in, feeling his breath on her cheek.
“Come closer a little.”
His hand was travelling down her body, coming to rest at the small concave low at her back. She gasped at the sensation of his fingers on her skin; it brought back memories from so long ago that she thought she had left behind.
And as they danced, each move was a step back in time, each gaze a stronger stirring in their souls, and each turn closer to sweet destruction.
That dance filled the whole room, so much that everything had to melt away. All she could hear was the poignant beauty of the song in her blood; all she could feel were his hands on her skin and his breath on her lips.
He had that look in his eyes, that same desirous look of fever and wild that she remembered. The rhythm was pounding in her ears now, and all she knew was how perfectly their movements connected her to him and him her.
It was as if they had never parted, and the bachata plays, timeless.
She stood before him and he caught the scent of her perfume in her hair. Leaning in with his lips close at her ear, he spoke in a low voice.
“Do you know that you are the most beautiful here?”
“What do you mean?”
She could feel her face flushing and his intent gaze on her.
“Simply that you are the most interesting, elegant and beautiful woman.”
“Do you want to dance with me now?”
Before she could answer, he had taken her hand in his and wrapped his other arm around her waist. Still blushing, she draped hers around his neck. An upbeat percussion rhythm began and the musicians took the cue.