icingshortcake
Here, take it all
these two hands and feet
attached to tiresome body
eyes that shines so brightly
and brain that won't stop
churning ideas on fueled dreams
these lips part for your name
this heart doubles its thumping
just like runners going sprint
and they are all yours to take or break
You lift your eyes and I'm lost. Yes, just like that, you sent me to this spinning carrousel. And if I inhaled, I almost can taste the caramel and butter filling the air. The warmth of summer and the last of ray in the horizon. A spark, the color of magic. Please take that chance, I promise there will be rainbow at the end of our story.
These wispy ends of your curls
the crease of your smiling eyes
one humble dip where high bone meet lips
the smooth tequila on your tongue
and spicy fragrant I cannot recall
I never think I can catch it
the essence of simply you
I don't need a wink of time to consider or think about it: you are, without a doubt, my better half. There's a reason why people call it better and you make it true to the root. No contest there.
It is yours and not mine but thank you sweetheart
Your scent still taste the same even after these years of seas between us. Your lips bleeding red to the contour of a kiss. Your tongue slither to wet the want. Your eyes hold burning intent under that black Evasion. How fitting to its name. I can feel the crackles filling the air. But none of us move. This is a game we both have played so many times and no one is willing to yield. So, I ask about what your plans are for the week in town while you fidgets with the titanium frame. I almost hate the easy smile you gave, red framing those pearly white teeth, and that little head tilt. I'm yours.
She banks on others' uninformed decisions. The graphics and numbers that make the statistics cannot go wrong. Oh well, they may point to awry direction if you don't read them carefully. But not for her, elisa walsh, the member of Y elite economist. They are an open book under her glance and combine with her expertise to ask the right questions, they are a deadly weapon. An efficient machine gun ready to be wielded anytime in this floor war and she has stock of ammunition to boot. The youngest women in the history of this company to make partner in less than four year, elisa carry with her long list of clients, partners, associates, and gleaming track records on trading. Enough to secure her position for as long as she is willing to stay.
She knows that everyone knows her routine and timing. Perfect life, safe choice, impeccable history. Just as she is sure that no one just knows who she really is. In the end, trading always involves some risk. She just doesn't take hers on her job.
He draw a long sigh after looking at the boy with slight remorse. Ready to turn him on the door for even daring to show up but the event from last night leaves more than a dent to his scarring ego. He twirled the cane and think who is best to avenge him other than this pitiful looking creature claiming to be the descendant and the rightful heir to the throne. At the very least, he will just spent a couple of lazy afternoon to waste but then he has his future secure in the castle if the boy is right. He throw a small glance and saw the glint in the boy's eyes. No malice intent there. Instead, a gleam of intent for proving his self worth. He sigh again, "make no mistake boy my methods may not be the best or the most efficient but it sure as hell make me happy and suit me like a second skin". The boy nodded in a hurry and scurried in.
I'm pretty sure you hate me or at the very least think that I'm weird.
But my heart is already a captive of your laugh and my eyes are set to you from the very beginning.
So, I'll try to set aside this small things called feelings and put it in the furthest cabinet and throw away the key.
When the time comes my darling, it will be simple.
No big drum roll. No fanfare. No fireworks flying.
Only utter mechanic of limbs, wrapping in a sweetest hug.
But the statement will still be loud and clear:
I love you, thank you and goodbye for now.
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