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windshield
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windshield |
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aurora rain Member
since 2000-11-15
Posts 90 |
The minutes taste bitter, like lemon rinds, and your eyes wave from the sidelines of the crowds, dark lashes fluttering up, fluttering down, rimming the pools of green-gray circled in white, your eyes radiant and like half-moons, and I wonder how much longer I will have to wait. "what time is it?" "9:25." You breathe in and out, sigh repeatedly, pick up the phone, look at me again, and this is pure torture. I think of the back of your neck as you turn your head, how it is delicately curved and masculine and strong, and, well....perfect. What is perfect, anyway? "Hmmm. It's scary, being so quiet in here." "Yeah, it is. But also kind of nice, too." I suppose. The air is cold, and the wind is biting the nape of my bare neck (my hair is in a ponytail) as we head out the door. Wind chill of zero, and I have no jacket. The car doors are always frozen, and the ice on the windowpanes of the car is cracked into beautiful, almost spider-web-like patterns. He opens the door, cheeks red from the cold, hair slightly falling into his eyes. I remember, I remember, I remember. "I guess we'll just have to wait for it to melt." Ten minutes pass and we sit, again, in near-silence. The music plays quietly, below the undertone and the rhythm of my thought. I trace with my eyes the outline of your face, and find it beautiful. "Try scraping the windows from the inside." There's only a small patch of streetlight visible through the windshield now, and the passengers-side window is still cracked, streetlights spilling in through the splits like rays of midnight sun. "This is good enough, isn't it?" "Well...I don't know. It might not be. Can you see?" "Just fine." And the minutes are still bitter like lemon rinds, and your lashes still flutter....but so does my heart. And I can't see anything past you, or your face. [This message has been edited by aurora rain (edited 12-15-2000).] |
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aurora rain Member
since 2000-11-15
Posts 90 |
upping my own topic. because it seems no-one ever replies. |
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