Conscious Thoughts of a First Date
The sun seemed to imitate the dance of summer wind, as it slid over you and cascaded like the waves over wandering curves and the streaks of silky black hair, tightly, but bountifully cascading away from your angelic face, as you exchanged your fragrant smile for coins of my adoration, collected and carried, even conveyed by way of caressing eyes that didn’t dare leave you, in expectation of sure fated rapture, if not of form, then certainly of your grace.
All of your aqueous essence glistened as it escaped tight well springs hidden in your hallowed oasis of crème textured skin, that body that brings the bon vivant in me to acquiesce to every whim and whisper as my confidence waned to something just shy of inhibition—however inseparable my want was from the insatiable need to be your preference, for life. In the autumn, heat the peril of being the first to speak froze me. My clumsy language rendered useless by my tongue-tied response to your beauty. My habitually hurried mind slowed to a measureless step that could form but one thought in response to the flood of emotions that tormented my collective talents. You are beautiful, and I love you became the full battery of my consciousness.
Warm, tropical gusts blended a bouquet of unknown fruit, not guava, but nearly as sweet, as sultry updrafts at play elevated my senses and softened all speech to pause the hasty thrash and thresh of my heart.
Time’s good sense was called into question amidst warring affections that paid notice, playing devilishly between your spellbinding beauty and the hypnotic bating of syllables, that if understood clearly, might have insinuated my inclusion in the theatre of your thoughts. Thoughts that I prayed were of your fondness for me. That perhaps you were as taken by my presence as I was immobilized in my wonder of your charm.
That same time that tortured me was your flattering narrator, demanding gratification and begging every second of my attention. For you were in that moment, the spring—the very indulgence of God. In that same time, you were likewise the reward and penalty of the carnal curse and the blessing that roused and exposed the truth of me.
In that moment I was reminded and made fully aware that many a war had been waged for but a second enslaved to a touch of the sweetness that is yours, the distinct ambiguity of knowing your gaze, a stare that has in centuries past, pierced the granite walls of empires, peeled the pride from the legendary patriarchs of antiquity, and subdued the strength that thinly abated the lunacy that lurks in all men. Your playful intent to unintentionally coexist with my weaker sex brought to boil, desires that if gone unchecked, would topple all of my common sense.
To leave your sight was a deadly game. To perceive that your eyes would for a moment follow me was but a fool’s wager, for that would lend a mention of a tomorrow—an encounter with the idea that your desires might include me beyond the moment in which we shared such a beautiful reticent drift, a loosely locked moment in which you allowed me to be aware, conscious of your notice, an uncertain length of limned consideration, together in an uncertain guarantee. No, I will never leave, I thought. I will stay in her gaze forever. And in that moment, I found the depth of me, the very bottom of my soul—there in the sea of your eyes. And I have never left.
