I Noticed…

I wish I didn’t notice things,
The things that make me sad.
I wish I didn’t notice things,
Cause I should actually be mad.
I wish I did’t notice things,
That others seem to miss.
I wish I didn’t notice things,
That make me feel like this. 

Warm rain envelops us, masking happy tears. I pull you in close. My hand twines in your hair and my whiskers tickle your cheek. I’ve missed you.

Well, what do you think she feels?

He is staring again. Her hair is thrown over one shoulder, showing the graceful line along her neck. Their eyes catch.

‘There’s been something I’ve been meaning to find out’ he says, his eyes unwaveringly locked with hers.

‘Yeah… what’s that?’ she fidgets as she asks, looking past him.

He moves closer, kneeling in front of her seat, forcing his way back into her view. ‘It’s not something I can ask you. I- I just need you to trust me’ he edges forward as he speaks. Vertigo washes over him, almost as if he was looking over a deathly drop.

                ‘okay’ she mumbles, dumfounded. Her heart beat was erratic. She doesn’t know if this is what she wants.

He kisses her. Softly at first, but when she kissed back, he pushes on. He holds her close, leaning into her body. Her hand slips to his hair and tangled itself. He feels the heat and electricity create a firestorm between them. It lasts less than a minute, but they are both shaken and panting by the end. He slowly opens his eyes and she is looking back at him curiously. He needs to know what his best friend felt…

Activity: Describe a middle aged woman at a bus stop, who has just found out her son has died. Only describe the way which she sense her surroundings to convey this information. 250 words.

Martha felt the pavement tilt beneath her. Looking down she begged the crack between her feet to become a chasm; to swallow her whole, hide her from the sea of concerned strangers. She was not sure if she had screamed, or if the mournful tar trailing across her artificially rosy cheeks had earned her their attention.

Time passed, the only way she could tell was the crunch of bus wheels arriving and the sickening cloud that followed. She stood there as people came and went, content that their day was better than hers, living. Oh they were concerned, at least some of them. They came to ask her what was wrong, but she could only hear muffled voices and smell their breath when they got too close. There was one in particular that got her attention, his beer breath warming her frigid face.

Why is he drunk? It’s the morning! Why was he behind a wheel? She wasn’t thinking about the bum in front of her.

Shocked out of her stupor she looked down, to see her phone broken on the ground. She bent to pick it up, numb to her usual back pain. The broken glass pricked her finger and soon welled with a droplet of blood.

No one will ever share this blood again she realised, stepping forward to be the next crunch under the arriving bus.

My chest is tight. Every breath is laboured. I am not in pain, not in any physical way. My thoughts hurt and crush me with an unimaginable weight. The longer I succumb the worse it is, I just can’t seem to move. Food is a hassle. Water isn’t worth it. I just want to lay here until everything is better. But that won’t work. Things wont be better for a long time, and they wont get better without me putting the effort in. I need to fight this blanket of dark musings. I need to suffer. Once the suffering is done with, the end will seem grandiose in comparison. But even now it feels too much. I am being defeated and my wounds worsen with every passing minute. I need my saviour. I just don’t know how to look.

Procrastination.

Surfing the web, tapping into the vast uncharted depths of human interaction; information pouring in; opinions formed, destroyed and protected vehemently; cute kitties; a funny poem; sexy women; sex; bullies; heroes; villans; news; misinformation. I need to get away from it, away from it all. 

Time to watch television. Watch all the caricatures of people interact, maybe learn something interesting; maybe learn something false. Why does ‘Reality’ TV exist? Haven’t they heard of the internet? This is boring. I might read a book.

This book is really good. I’m too tired to read.

Video games! They’re like books but I’m in them. Vicariously dismember things with my controller; learn to play a fake guitar; what an amazing story; what a challenge; what’s the time? I should sleep.

Sleep.

Sleep.

Sleep.

I wonder if I have any notification? Emails? Comments? New photos?! The internet is great. My turn on words with friends? I don’t have time for that, I’m busy. Oh there’s an app for my phone? Awesome!

Time to get my week started. Shut up phone, oh wait, who commented on my photo? Oh I may as well play my turn now. Oh that looks interesting.

Wait, it’s really not. What is going on? My life is boring. What do I do? What have I achieved? Nothing. I need to create something. I need to contribute to this world. I need to be proactive. But it all seems so - hard. Maybe I’ll just do it online?

I don’t want to say “you’re beautiful”

My eyes dart hungrily; memorising each enchanting detail, every awe inspiring nuance of her visage. I breath deep, delighting in her scent, her very presence. We may look upon photos, but they cannot impart the experience, the charisma that exudes in every facet of our eyes desire. My jaw threatens to slacken, my gaze risks my discovery; I know I am staring, but does she? Emotions swell in the pit of my stomach, swirling and turning, complimenting and contradicting; love or lust? Or heartfelt appreciation. The former requires more than can be seen or smelt, the later cheapens the whole affair. Surely this woman deserves more than that; the imaginings rummaging around in my past lovers memories deny this undeniable fact. Here we are, or better here I am; dumbstruck and confounded. Best move and simply remember her fondly.

Your heart stops for half a second, Your breath gets caught in your throat, Your mind races with the sweetest things, But all you can do is hope.

The Cellar pt1

We descend the creaking wooden stairs, trying in vain to adjust to the total darkness. Your hand in mine squeezing so hard I can feel your pulse, It’s fast. I don’t know what awaits us in the darkness and I have trouble focusing on any thought, the smell of wild berry shampoo and a faint vanilla body spray clouds my mind. What might be coming could change the rest of my life.

You stumble on the last stair, unable to find the banister in the enveloping black curtain. I catch you and see a sliver of light reflecting  off your raven hair. Almost like magic your porcelain features come into a semblance of focus. I can see your slightly pronounced cheek bones above your deepening dimples, you are smiling, even in the uncertainty of the night and it is making my tummy tie itself in knots of nervousness.

As we right ourselves you briefly let go of my hand, I feel incomplete, an emptiness wells up inside and dissipates the second I feel you arms around my waist. You lean into me, your breath shallow and quick. I can sense your breasts against me and your breath on my throat. I arch my neck low enough to touch my lips to yours. Electric tingles run through them, down into my chest. My heart hastens more than I imagined it could. Is it just me that can hear the THUD THUD THUD?

I press down firmer parting your lips with mine, you taste amazing, better than anything I have ever consumed. I can taste the lust, taste your desire. It matches mine. Our tongues meet and dance their sensual dance. Our eyes closed, oblivious to anything but the sensations from within our own bodies, and each others.

My hands start to roam across your body, lightly tracing fingers along your hips and around to your lower back. I snake them up the back of you top and pull you in tighter, the strong skin to skin contact making you catch your breath. You press yourself against me harder, almost as if wanting to push our two bodies into one.

I pull back, watching your uncertain expression in the dim light. I gently hold your face in one hand, to comfort you. I then lift my shirt above my head and drop it onto the floor. You step forward again, placing your cool hands on my stomach and your button nose against my chest. Standing on your toes you balance against me and lightly start kissing my collar bone. It makes me shiver and grab handfuls of your top to keep from letting out a quiet moan.

I feel your teeth against the nape of my neck…

I want likes, reblogs and comments in my ask box if you want me to continue tomorrow. xx