I have longing.
I always have longing.
And in current moments, my longing runs to traces of memoirs.
Collection of silvers and golds.
To one who pop up in front of campus gate
With reactive curse to traffic
Cigarrettes After Sex and Betwixt
& simple casual ‘What you’re up to’
To one with long silky hair
& ‘saya-kamu- refference
For random chilling stroll at sheer sunset
& rather night drive out
To one I have hard time to recall
With barely sober date
After midnight talks & late night drive outs
& minutes for just staying in a car
To traces of silvers & golds
To somehow chill and thrilling ride
For embrace and deep relates
With, well, fail ends
I have longing.
And my longing belong to none
I will be still stand on certain loop of my life.
Some moments I will always favor to remember.
Not so late Wednesday ride.
And couple hours of talking.
Some sips of coffee.
And… Many moments of wonders.
Talking about life and wonders.
Job and simple stuff.
And 10 mins of night ride.
From Cigarettes After Sex,
That was one delicate sheer kiss of night I will never ever able to forget.
‘I don’t think I can’.
Wishing and longing of you going back and forth.
And not merely in romantical way.
Simply, a fun loop to hop in.
A tender 10 mins of ride.
Minimum notions of city breathe & dim lights wrap the town.
And she choked.
With eyes open, sight seeing is limited wide of ceiling – almost all dark and slight light beam striking thru off the clear looking glass.
Reflecting to what left of the world : moon and cloudy sky.
And with the help of it,
She is able to see a figure who’s on top of her.
Whom shadow cover its eyes,
but it doesn’t able to hide its gaze.
Swaying all way thru around.
Up and down, back and forth.
It is dancing. Tender moves.
With delicate swipe of skin to skin.
Bare and majestic.
But firm still,
give some sort of shock striking and chilling to bones.
Alerting all the nerves and mucles.
She is sinning to the night.