Chromatica

And the moments crept like leopards,
And the days raced like fleeing zebra,
But the years passed not at all….

“Love the people who still saw you
when you wanted to be invisible.”

“Whatever happened to those friends of yours, you know the ones I mean,” she asked, trying to see his eyes shining in the darkness and reaching up to flick a lock of his hair back, allowing one slim finger to trace a strong jawline through his scruff. “They wrote their own story and walked away from time,” he whispered as he leaned over her, listening carefully for the catch in her breath when his fingers barely grazed her naked breast. They lay in the midnight shade of their favorite oak, just at the edge of the neighbors’ fresh-cut lawn, and she giggled a bit at his hesitancy with her body, considering their current state of dress.

“You’re always so mysterious,” she whispered back to him, “Tell me what became of them, they were so beautiful together.” He only laughed gently and dropped to kiss her quickly, running the tip of his tongue over her lips and withdrawing. Sighing softly, she asked, “So was it a poem or a novel, this story?” “Maybe it’s an epic,” he told her, “Or perhaps a song that’s still being written. A duet, I think, each singing their own part, coming together over and over again for the best parts.” “And just what are the best parts,” she teased.

He answered not in words, but lifted her from the grass and into his arms to complete what they had started. Just before closing her eyes, she thought to herself how magical was the cold, blue glow of the moon peeking through broad summer leaves just above and beyond his dark hair. She gave herself to him, surrendering and conquering at the same instant, wrapping strong legs around stronger legs, holding him to herself. Sooner than she expected, waves of heat and light washed over her. She gasped silently, biting hard into the hollow beneath his neck. He held her safely through the storm, giving her a bit of quiet rest before moving past her defenses again, forcing yet another storm to crash against the shore. A solitary owl in the branches above them met her gaze and did not turn away. It’s golden eyes stared balefully through her soul as she gently wept.

~A.J. Mayfield

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