Images

 

Words refuse to come out; only that beautiful music whirling inside my brain.

Images of windswept hair and sunglasses and hands confused between shoulder and chest.

Two minutes later, hair tied up, windswept is too unrealistic…

Hands centimetres apart, not daring to touch until he takes it.

Heart beating unusually fast, as usual.

Eyes locking for milliseconds before looking away, afraid he might catch something.

Cheeks flushed, not very visible through brown skin- the pinkish red;

Had he touched my face, he’d have known,

And wondered why it’s so hot on a frosty evening.

I might touch his hair, and stop myself from holding his face-

Just in time.

In the hotel room, my heart would jump out of the rib-cage.

I would melt before I’d be able to look him in the eyes.

I’d mutter something and turn away,

Waiting for him to touch me first,

As usual.

I guess he’ll grab me like a kitten, as usual.

And I’ll finally find enough courage to kiss him,

Lips crushing against each other,

Teeth biting and tugging at lips.

I still can’t let him look at me with the lights on.