There was wet grass, and the remains of rain upon our nostrils, and the moist on our windows blurring the view, and a pair of lips which belong to you and I. There was music from the speakers that spoke of the youth and how they fall in love, recklessly; matter-of-factly how all of it were true. We agreed with silent moans while we tried to catch our breath, easy now, love, we have the whole half-afternoon by our side.
You smelled of pine and the mountain breeze, and tasted of jellybeans and lime and a dash of our favorite gum. When I close my eyes and you’re somewhere near, I see not of darkness and nothingness, but of reveries that fill the void of the light’s absence — your face in shady tones of grey, your hands in playful waves of white.
The sound of thunder filled every eardrum in view. But ours were filled with the sound of each other’s heartbeats.