Our eyes reflect each other’s love and pain, but we could lose ourselves in each other. In a foreign country, your breathing slowed down my heart, until I touched you.
I touched you. Oh, I felt alive.
Your friendly back at me had been naive all this time.
The sheets had been pulled down to your knees. Your waist, calm as La Seine on a winter night, was anticipating my graze.
Ice cream. Vodka. Waffles. Gin.
The perfect night it could have been. Damn it! Your lips, covered in chocolate, had still a cherry color and had been so close.
Ha! Just a dream.