a confession of an infatuation junky
i've been dreaming of living with her.
no permanent attachment. yet. we're still in our mid 20s. small, warm and cozy apartment, with our little dreams filled the rooms. city undefined.
i could even picture the scenes.
me in front of the pc and notebook, busy writing, with a cup of coffee at the side. her approaching from the kitchen with the smell of a godess, brings me a warm tea and cookies to eat. i look up and smile. she smiles back, and bending down. we kiss for what seems like forever.
i get up and goes to the stereo. music swirls. we dance. we dance and dance and dance, right there at the center of the living room, as if of all the things in the world that's the last thing we can do before we die.
the kitchen, she cooks. i hug her from the back, and we kiss again. long. i help her with the cookings, play with the ingredients. and there, i hear the most incredible sound. her laughter.
there's nothing much on tv, no exciting shows. but we keep watching it anyway. me lay on the sofa, with her resting her head on my chest. some lame dialog from the tv. tranquil moment. it's only us, the sofa, the tv, and that's it. our breath and cuddles. and our hearts.
our bed, and passion, late at night. we make love. we make love hard. if it can produce a spark, the brightness is enough to light the whole city. if our heat can be a power generator, there would be no such thing as electricity shortage. ever.
i am blessed to have her in my life, ton.