Mystery of Desire

The mystery of desire is once again outlined on her face, her mouth curled towards freedom, in her eyes the shadow of passing conflict, a passing of seconds before the screen is wiped clean. Sensuality comes naturally to her gestures towards me; she pours the wine in two glasses and forces the cork back into the near empty bottle. Gracefully she takes a cigarette from the pack and lights it, her fingers move with such elegance, as she breathes out the first drag she glances at me, knowing she is being observed and liking it.

I want to grab her around her middle and hold her close but there is a boundary between us, I want to let her keep talking and let her free her mind but I also want to comfort her and silence the trauma. She hands me a wine glass, her fingernails are perfect. She takes a seat nearby and moves her arm towards the ashtray. My eyes can hardly leave her and now I realise the depth of her hypnotics, still I too am not without a fence.

My mind cannot walk away from her body or her eyes. The more she says, the more I notice her failing, she is losing faith in the telling of her story, doubting the reception maybe? I lean closer and grab myself a cigarette, my moves are clumsy as she watches me, why? Normally I have the calm confidence for theses times and even flair, she stops talking and waits for me to light up, twists her hair and than leans in for the kiss.

There is a moment of silence as we get accustomed to each others lips and how that is and then just feeling without any other thing. She breaks off and leans back looking at me, a look of triumph but still fragile. I am caught by this sudden emotion and quickly move my cigarette to my lips, looking back at her with caution I breathe out and the flair is back.

A Year On The Broad Red Avenue (2003)