Closer
for Shameera
Just a little closer.
She can feel his breath tickling her neck, his body just inches away from hers. He has a hand propped up against the table, babyblue irises squinting at the photos laid out in front of them. As he leans forward to grasp a snapshot, his arm brushes hers. He leans in further, minty breath on her rosied cheek; she secretly enjoys the closeness, and starts wondering what it'd feel like to take his face in her hands and give him a kiss
so gentle, so sweet,
so close.
-
Just a little closer.
He can smell her from here; peanutbuttercrunch and apple shampoo and Attar of Roses weaving together to give his endorphins a kick. She sips her coffee, pinklips stained creamwhite. But with a salacious flick of her tongue, it's gone and he has to breath in deep. His eyes run up and down her body, admiring every curve, every pixel of skin. When she reaches for her coffee, her shoulder rubs against his; he fake wishes she'd finish her drink. Inhaling her intoxicating scent, he daydreams of dewdropped fields with them standing midst gold, foreheads touching, fingers intertwining,
breathless, ardent,
close.
-
Just a little closer.
Their breaths come out in little puffs in the rain; smoky rings of daylight dreams swirling, tumbling through the icy air before finally dissolving into nothingness. They share her red umbrella, clutching the handle tightly with gloved hands overlapping; feeling the others' warmth through leather and lace is enough to make their heart rate speed up.
He drinks in her beauty, drowning in mahogany'd eyes; knowing that she can't possibly wait any longer, she reaches out to grab him by the coat, pulling him in to taste sweet, sweet victory through cherrychapped lips; he's taken aback at first, but willingly lets his hunger take over, caressing her cheek, fingering a button, whispering three little words into the night sky.
Now this is close enough.