Monday, January 30, 2012

Debauchery

It felt like trickling debauchery down my throat that settled like the fire of a mistake in the pit of my belly. Minds getting fuzzy and hands that began to rove and rave; his that were big, mine that were chubby. Endless conversations, words whispering with the heavy meaning of a rich history, eyes that were softened by the dew of memories and smiles that seemed to blink with flirtation. It was the perfect night to sneak a few glances - the stars twinkled, the rum was sweet, the cigarettes were in an endless supply and the green grass was cool beneath our toes. The night grew, so did it's seductive prowess... and who were we in the face of nature's wiles? 


It wasn't that the union was unexpected... It was, perhaps, the destruction of the sanctity of our memories that was. Glorified statures of love, pedestal climbing emotions of the past - they came crashing down at the mercy of our inebriation. I suppose we could say we resisted as much as we should have but that would be a lie. Through hazy eyes, slurred sighs and manic moans, the union of two one-night lovers with a history richer than that of Samson and Delilah, was so quick it felt like washing my hands off of the dirt that was my past. 


Eyes wide shut, the mind blinking from unfulfilled fatigue, skin still tingling from the unexpected shock of rum-induced love - falling asleep came with no struggle. But the days after came at a price. 

Rem·i·nisce: Indulge in enjoyable recollection of past events.

'Stand by Me' plays from the speakers I think I own, but the music lives free and unapologetically,
in you and me. 
And I think, no I feel, all those nights spent. 
They vanish amidst a tomorrow that slowly slipped into our conversations at the break of dawn. 
Endless voices calling, speaking nonsense. Speaking in tongues, in colors we sometimes didn't recognize. 
Still we went. We continued to answer, to love, to move forward. To live in each other. 
Because there was no other way to live but that. And how much I loved it, for what it was. And how much I want it, for what I am. 


- by Shonali Chenzira