Had a very sleepless night last night so ended up writing this wee drabble inspired by Peter's party the other night. Just a bit of nothing.
In the noise of the street, there is a whisper. It tells of promises past, made to ease aching souls. It flirts with eager desire that fills wanton bodies. It hints at future dreams, at anticipatory delights, at longed for pleasures for needful hearts.
In the chill of winter, there is warmth. It flows between entwined fingers that touch in public and grasp in private. It runs through veins when hands smooth over tensed muscles and pleading flesh. It dances like quicksilver when kisses gloss over shivering limbs, when tongues caress over chilly lips, when heated bodies press onto cold skin.
In the darkness of the night, there is a light. It glows with heat in furtive meaningful glances. It twinkles with mischief between teeth bitted lips. It flashes with lust behind dark, heavy lashed widening eyes. It fills the spaces, brightens the dimmed corners, lights an everlasting fire that cannot be doused.
In the noise and the quiet, the cold and the heat, the gloom and the bright, there is love. Its hushed constant hum deafens the angry shouts. Its persistent glowing warmth melts the frozen landscape. Its everlasting shine chases away the lurking shadows. It excites and thrills jaded spirits, it soothes and calms painful hearts. It flows, a river, unstoppable and powerful, bringing life to the arid land. It finds a path through the mountains and the rocks that lie in its way, it cannot be controlled. It forces its way round and over and through the artificial structures imposed by man, it cannot be constrained.
Two men lie in a bed, in a room, in a building, in a square. They lie within a world of pain and pleasure, of hatred and hope, of desire and duty. They lie, two hearts beating as one, still repeating the same refrain.
When it's special, you know.
