Moments

Tue, 02 Oct 2007 19:36:25 GMT

She passes by me and her scent resonates, fueling to fulfill her desires as my own. Her grace; she is every bit a lady, but I know what lies beneath.

Memory

Tue, 02 Oct 2007 15:26:53 GMT

I used to wake up at night and crawl out of bed just to look at them. Lighting a cigarette, I would study their essence and try to brand it into my memory. I laid pen to paper, looking for the words to flesh out their lines and textures, their hollows and curves; each word a painstaking task in an effort to forge their soul. Later, I turned to an inkwell filled with blood to write the words that captured their beauty and charms. I searched their most primal shadows and created the idol of words with which to worship them.

So many, so long ago, their memories but faint scars raised and diving along my cerebrum. I look through the words transcribed to paper so many years ago and yet I cannot remember their faces; I cannot hear their voices; cannot smell their sex. Remember only the heat of the moment and the tension until release. Their humanity has long ago abandoned them in the notes of memory, and I am left with lines and textures, hollows and curves. It is as though I was not even there for the sex. I studied them and wrote of them as though they were works of art painted by a surreal master, yet their being was lost in the intercourse.

Too, I wrote of my own scars and those who affected my forever. I look at my flesh today and the blemishes endured in the darkness of lust and know the stories I wrote of them by heart. I carry each of you with me, somewhere. I remember scant details and your beauty encapsulated, frozen in memory.

I set these words to the page, stripping away their essence. I want you to see them the way that I see them, vulnerable, tragic and raw. Their beauty is for me alone to keep, locked away from view.

Kyopelinvuori

Mon, 01 Oct 2007 21:11:23 GMT

Who you once were and who you are now can be two completely different things. In every life there comes a defining moment, and time is split in two; what came before and what comes after that moment. For me, that moment came when I woke in a dream with her hovering over me. A single kiss from her lips reinvented me and she was gone…

One More Kiss, One More Hour

Moments

Memory

Kyopelinvuori