It was not an emblematic night, but bizarre for the tacks in my heart wanted to be loosen. Pillows were equipped to catch my reveries when I had received a late night phone call from a mysterious number. It was him, screaming out my name that supplemented fuel to this blazing core. Tears surged up my eyes, engulfing wires of utterance attaching into my ears. And a thunder of fearful voyage with him had stricken my heel. Its arrow seized me to the cloud where he’s the only white among the blacks of insecurity, my armor among the odds.
But my feet were fated into a domicile where noise was abandoned, where lament was ensnared under the spell of pixie dust called imagination. In a prairie that was full of rape flowers and dandelions under the ashes of blue berry and pink sky. The tip of my fingers zealously craved to take the first grasp of flowers’ edges while snooping to the melody of the wind where my eyes were barred, head was lifted up. No one existed in this land but butterflies and moths plus exiled nightingales.
Innocence had caved me in, when a gentle hand cuddled my head, flicked my hair down to my shoulder. Sparkle like colors in a fireworks display. It was magical like dancing of warm butterflies inside my tummy brought by dazzling fervent kisses on the lips from the very first moment. The touch of pointed nose creeping around my face, pressing through my neck filtered nostalgic scent. All of a sudden, crickets had landed on his head that made our fortress back down. Tiptoes were destined into the hill of flaccid wild grasses and blue roses.
The darkness smacked the sky as the sun bid goodbye, their hands intertwined like twin snakes around my sword.
Amazingly written