Of clouds and climbers…A night of good music, a night I hoped would never end – of sweet memories that riddled themselves like green climbers around a never ending pillar of dreams…
I hovered high above this body of mine, watching a 22 year old male cuddle up on the divan, content with the world around him, only yearning for the company of a someone who could share that intimate space with him and yet limit their presence to inhibit an intrusion. Mellifluousness is what he was looking for; much like those million songs he called his own. Those amazing compositions by maestros who mastered the craft of containing his every emotion in 6 minutes of pure passion, packaged and sold as simple dreams for people to regress to. This was life as he knew it, this was life as he wanted it to be, this was what kept him happy. This is what he now knew he was.
I hovered high above this body of mine, watching a 22 year old male cuddle up on the divan, content with the world around him, only yearning for the company of a someone who could share that intimate space with him and yet limit their presence to inhibit an intrusion. Mellifluousness is what he was looking for; much like those million songs he called his own. Those amazing compositions by maestros who mastered the craft of containing his every emotion in 6 minutes of pure passion, packaged and sold as simple dreams for people to regress to. This was life as he knew it, this was life as he wanted it to be, this was what kept him happy. This is what he now knew he was.