Here is one idea I have been turning around in my head.
The Forbidden Kiss It is a meeting, between you and all your problems. Does that make sense? I imagine that he would be tall, not gangly, but thin. His attire is formal, collared, buttoned and a deep-colored material. Did I mention that he is black? As in his skin color is night sky black. Not African. He glitters a little like stars are in his skin. There he is standing, in the middle of a strange circular room, with a circle in the middle and paths, like pizza slice cuts, are leading to the center. Or are they paths leading away? The room itself is not what is important, what is important is what he tells you. He tells you-
" I am every single one of your problems, your troubles, your unkind fates"
In saying so a terrible anger rises inside you, filled with the anger of unjustness, helplessness and the inevitability of it all. There's the anger, and there is him. A solid, terrible something the blame lies squarely on. He is the one. He is the cause. This is his fault. And he needs to pay. All that anger needs somewhere to go. That terrible statement drew the anger so fast and so furiously it seemed that nothing could stop it. And yet.
Beneath all the anger someone else was born, a curiosity, strong enough to match the anger, and win. Her- standing there gazing into the cause of all her troubles face; and she was- curious. The burning urge to fight him, hurt him was still there but distant now. Out of everything stepped a thought. A wild, fantastic and insanely possible thought. Her gaze turned to one of wonder, for him but more for herself, and what she insanely wanted to do.
"Can I kiss you"
She asked. She was close now, still not able to concentrate on his face, but she knew without seeing. Her pale red lips met his ashy black ones in a seemingly gentle kiss. All of her sorrow, annoyance, and anger flared anew. His inky blackness spread across her lips as he infected her with his pain. Her heart had been raked with icy fingernails with a simple kiss and touch of this somewhat-man. Her now black lips bent in a smile, small and private. Feeling expanded and contracted like stars, making their deaths known in a fantastic swirl of ego. Her head swam with the intensity of it all. He stood there silent and watching. Her eyes locked upon his face, resting, "Erotic"
She mused, a clear thought in the whirlwind. "More"
She whispered. Thinking the thought before comprehending. Outside influence had been striped away; there are no false feelings now. It wasn't a lie. So she kissed him again, he accepting. She was thrown deeper into the mess of pain, sorrow and fate, reveling in the oneness she felt with it all. "I'm kissing my troubles"
She thought calmly, the thought multiplied and bred until it filled her. Strange, fantastic and insanely possible all at once.
The Forbidden Kiss It is a meeting, between you and all your problems. Does that make sense? I imagine that he would be tall, not gangly, but thin. His attire is formal, collared, buttoned and a deep-colored material. Did I mention that he is black? As in his skin color is night sky black. Not African. He glitters a little like stars are in his skin. There he is standing, in the middle of a strange circular room, with a circle in the middle and paths, like pizza slice cuts, are leading to the center. Or are they paths leading away? The room itself is not what is important, what is important is what he tells you. He tells you-
" I am every single one of your problems, your troubles, your unkind fates"
In saying so a terrible anger rises inside you, filled with the anger of unjustness, helplessness and the inevitability of it all. There's the anger, and there is him. A solid, terrible something the blame lies squarely on. He is the one. He is the cause. This is his fault. And he needs to pay. All that anger needs somewhere to go. That terrible statement drew the anger so fast and so furiously it seemed that nothing could stop it. And yet.
Beneath all the anger someone else was born, a curiosity, strong enough to match the anger, and win. Her- standing there gazing into the cause of all her troubles face; and she was- curious. The burning urge to fight him, hurt him was still there but distant now. Out of everything stepped a thought. A wild, fantastic and insanely possible thought. Her gaze turned to one of wonder, for him but more for herself, and what she insanely wanted to do.
"Can I kiss you"
She asked. She was close now, still not able to concentrate on his face, but she knew without seeing. Her pale red lips met his ashy black ones in a seemingly gentle kiss. All of her sorrow, annoyance, and anger flared anew. His inky blackness spread across her lips as he infected her with his pain. Her heart had been raked with icy fingernails with a simple kiss and touch of this somewhat-man. Her now black lips bent in a smile, small and private. Feeling expanded and contracted like stars, making their deaths known in a fantastic swirl of ego. Her head swam with the intensity of it all. He stood there silent and watching. Her eyes locked upon his face, resting, "Erotic"
She mused, a clear thought in the whirlwind. "More"
She whispered. Thinking the thought before comprehending. Outside influence had been striped away; there are no false feelings now. It wasn't a lie. So she kissed him again, he accepting. She was thrown deeper into the mess of pain, sorrow and fate, reveling in the oneness she felt with it all. "I'm kissing my troubles"
She thought calmly, the thought multiplied and bred until it filled her. Strange, fantastic and insanely possible all at once.