Embellishment (Part One)
Posted 12-13-2009 at 09:04 PM by stu.kay823
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]I woke alone this morning with that Lily Allen song in my head. The title escapes me, but it’s the one in the video clip where she kidnaps Elton John. [/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]I am writing these thoughts addressed to you by hand so that the garble of voices in my head might be quietened. Right now, I need to listen to that Hans Moleman “I was saying Boo-urns” voice, and not Mrs. Concrete/Mrs. Pathetic on the couch, watching the telly, screeching obscenities and admonishments at the screen, telling me to “Write about this!”; “Don’t forget about that!”; “Loop it back to here!”; “This is the perfect simile/adjective/metaphor!” “Page [I]six[/I]! Page [I]six[/I]!”[/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]--------------------------------[/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]You have ensnared me too often in recent days. The tender trap you have set for me has returned, and into which I obligingly stray. The affectations and nuances of the language you use appear to the inattentive eye as just words, but as I read them, I have often had to pause and reflect, perhaps even smile weakly to myself. In its own bizarre way, it is laughable that one word can so resoundingly flip the meaning of a sentence and make it somersault; and yet it may not be until that word, whatever it may be, is heard in context that you register its impact.[/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]I’ve momentarily returned to hating you in secret as I mull over that single word. Indeed, there were a couple of moments during Monday and Tuesday of last week where I was so completely at its mercy that I had to apologise to my company for my daydreaming. [/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]“Sorry, I was a million miles away.”[/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]I watched in a kind of perverse amusement as I saw her lips purse in order to stem the mordant-edged “Oh, ya think!” that begged escape from behind the coffee cup. A glaring understatement on my part and that is most uncharacteristic. [/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]And so, the fog of another dream settles... [/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]--------------------------------[/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]As my hands slip delicately from your shoulders to your hips, you turn and smile. The key twists forgivingly in the lock with a gentle click. With my hands still curled delicately at your waist, you lead me inside. I kick the door closed as you pull your heels from aching feet. I quickly follow suit. You step toward me purposefully. Reaching for my bowtie, you unravel it with a smirk. [I]Wait, I know that look[/I] ... you leave no doubt. You never do. You inch closer still. Our lips graze. Your fingers hook into mine. [/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]“Follow.”[/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]You round the newel and proceed up the stairs but I’m remaining rooted to the spot. At the outermost limit of our arms’ span, you return your attention to me. I am not the reluctant type, ordinarily, but the image of my daydreams - which would not be remiss in a Mel Gibson directed film - has just flashed before me. You return. [/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]I don’t know how long we spent there in the silence as your arms encircled me, but it was just the impetus I needed. By the time you lips again rose to graze my cheek, I was ready. Your champagne-sullied lips met mine slightly and repeatedly. You pull playfully at the loose bowtie on my neck with a trickle of laughter. [/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]“Ready?”[/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]You didn’t wait for my assenting nod. “I like this drunk you!”[/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]“Not drunk ... tipsy.”[/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]“Whatever, babe, it makes you highly suggestible. I like it. It’s giving me ideas.”[/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]“Like?”[/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]My eyes scan the kitchen before locking onto a fresh plate of cupcakes on the counter. My eyebrows arch with a silent question as the shadow of my empty hand menaces. Slightly admonishingly your voice whispers hoarsely, punctuated with the crack of hand forcibly meeting hand. “No! They’re for the birthday party tomorrow afternoon!” I pull my face into a frown. You smirk. Your response will not be repeated here. [/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]By the time we reach the landing, we’ve forgiven one another. You’ve snaked your arms over me and I have you wedged between the wall and my hips as my hands press below your ribcage. Between kisses, you whisper “But we’ll wake …”[/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]My lips stifle you into silence.[/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]I am writing these thoughts addressed to you by hand so that the garble of voices in my head might be quietened. Right now, I need to listen to that Hans Moleman “I was saying Boo-urns” voice, and not Mrs. Concrete/Mrs. Pathetic on the couch, watching the telly, screeching obscenities and admonishments at the screen, telling me to “Write about this!”; “Don’t forget about that!”; “Loop it back to here!”; “This is the perfect simile/adjective/metaphor!” “Page [I]six[/I]! Page [I]six[/I]!”[/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]--------------------------------[/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]You have ensnared me too often in recent days. The tender trap you have set for me has returned, and into which I obligingly stray. The affectations and nuances of the language you use appear to the inattentive eye as just words, but as I read them, I have often had to pause and reflect, perhaps even smile weakly to myself. In its own bizarre way, it is laughable that one word can so resoundingly flip the meaning of a sentence and make it somersault; and yet it may not be until that word, whatever it may be, is heard in context that you register its impact.[/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]I’ve momentarily returned to hating you in secret as I mull over that single word. Indeed, there were a couple of moments during Monday and Tuesday of last week where I was so completely at its mercy that I had to apologise to my company for my daydreaming. [/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]“Sorry, I was a million miles away.”[/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]I watched in a kind of perverse amusement as I saw her lips purse in order to stem the mordant-edged “Oh, ya think!” that begged escape from behind the coffee cup. A glaring understatement on my part and that is most uncharacteristic. [/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]And so, the fog of another dream settles... [/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]--------------------------------[/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]As my hands slip delicately from your shoulders to your hips, you turn and smile. The key twists forgivingly in the lock with a gentle click. With my hands still curled delicately at your waist, you lead me inside. I kick the door closed as you pull your heels from aching feet. I quickly follow suit. You step toward me purposefully. Reaching for my bowtie, you unravel it with a smirk. [I]Wait, I know that look[/I] ... you leave no doubt. You never do. You inch closer still. Our lips graze. Your fingers hook into mine. [/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]“Follow.”[/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]You round the newel and proceed up the stairs but I’m remaining rooted to the spot. At the outermost limit of our arms’ span, you return your attention to me. I am not the reluctant type, ordinarily, but the image of my daydreams - which would not be remiss in a Mel Gibson directed film - has just flashed before me. You return. [/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]I don’t know how long we spent there in the silence as your arms encircled me, but it was just the impetus I needed. By the time you lips again rose to graze my cheek, I was ready. Your champagne-sullied lips met mine slightly and repeatedly. You pull playfully at the loose bowtie on my neck with a trickle of laughter. [/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]“Ready?”[/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]You didn’t wait for my assenting nod. “I like this drunk you!”[/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]“Not drunk ... tipsy.”[/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]“Whatever, babe, it makes you highly suggestible. I like it. It’s giving me ideas.”[/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]“Like?”[/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]My eyes scan the kitchen before locking onto a fresh plate of cupcakes on the counter. My eyebrows arch with a silent question as the shadow of my empty hand menaces. Slightly admonishingly your voice whispers hoarsely, punctuated with the crack of hand forcibly meeting hand. “No! They’re for the birthday party tomorrow afternoon!” I pull my face into a frown. You smirk. Your response will not be repeated here. [/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]By the time we reach the landing, we’ve forgiven one another. You’ve snaked your arms over me and I have you wedged between the wall and my hips as my hands press below your ribcage. Between kisses, you whisper “But we’ll wake …”[/COLOR][/SIZE]
[SIZE=2][COLOR=#000000]My lips stifle you into silence.[/COLOR][/SIZE]
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