Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Spring Revisited

Rewinding her thoughts, she remembered the first time she met the psyche's squatter. That first, fateful meeting was on a cold, end of February evening; Dancing, drinking, loving life, journeying through the realms of music and beats, she hadn't felt so good in a long time.INTERRUPTION.
A voice from nowhere. Surprise.
She turned to see a rather shy but smiling face, comment on her dancing. "A good dancer".
She took these words as truthful and as a kind and thoughtful , observational compliment. Why would anyone want to lie about such a subject as dancing?
The offer of a drink was accepted. She drank Vodka; he drank Red Stripe.
Dancing? Her mind wondered off to think about her dancing. A.N Other had always laughed at her dancing. Laughed? He thought she was a 'funny' dancer. How could two people think so differently about the same person? What a undesirable way to describe the way a lover moves their body to music..had she always been so undesireable to A.N Other? She feared that maybe she had, in many respects, hence her desire and yearning for attention and love.
She rewinded her thoughts to the continual, lonely nights she had spent whilst living with A.N Other. No woman alive deserved to feel that sort of rejection and loneliness. No-one. 5 years she reckoned of feeling empty and lonely. 5 years! What a waste of precious time.

She thought about the mystery of chemistry and attraction. Chemistry was certainly a mystery and mainly, she felt, was confined to love. Chemistry had never been 100% with A.N Other. A.N Other was thoughtful and caring but lacked an emotional depth, that she hoped would surface with time. Sadly, this never happened.

The psyche's squatter? Who was this person? She was so taken aback by the beauty in the psyche squatter's face; Shapely, full, yet beautifully sculptured lips. Lips that were artistically perfected. Lips she felt, would be so sensual and yet cushion soft to kiss. Eyes that showed depth. Depth that seemed to be confined to a mysterious yet stormy, troubled ocean. She couldn't, at that moment in time, focus on the colour of the psyche squatter's eyes, their depth seemed to hide their 'true colour'. In later time, she discovered the blueness of these depth pools. A nose that was soft and small. Unlike her own nose, the psyche squatter's nose was also perfectly formed. Forehead? The psyches squatter had already bore frown lines, although he was still fairly young.
Lines on foreheads? She loved lines of foreheads. To her, it meant 'depth' and 'thought'. Lines of worry, angst, thought, philosophising. Lines were considered extremely sexy and attractive to her. The psyche's squatter, she started to realise in a short time of observing his face, was to her, extremely handsome and someone she instantly felt a 'physical' attraction to.
Wondering out into the fresh air, she first kissed the psyche's squatter, under a metal stairway. The first kiss of those soft cushiony lips made her feel overcome with passion and warmth. The second kiss, on a stairway, in darkness, reawoke her senses in a way that hadn't been awoken for years. The reciprocal yearning seemed to be magnetic, electric, heavenly charged. She felt like a volt of energy had energised her soul and relit her ashen fire, back to life. She was alive again....the journey had begun..

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