My Stranger

Window cracked, shaking from the wind, hovering the curtains diagonally, as if a constant presence stood underneath; the room, half full of smoke, dimmed lights, reminded me of the roadside motels prison escapees would seek refuge in – in hollywood movies; both our minds, cleansed with chemicals, thought of nothing but the never ending void of our existence.

Our being is pure, calm, repressed and insane… she took the cigarette out the packet – looking at me with those beautiful and pouting her Megan Fox lips – lit it up and inhaled the smoke as if her existence is meaningless without it. The air – held with the authority of smoke – felt fresher than it ever did: The dirt in her lungs can be something I crave – her downs; the funk that she is; the half suicidal melancholy of her inner-self – oh… It is just beauty.

We kissed slowly – her lips purified mine with all her nothingness; her body pressed against mine as if we were the same person – like symese twins.

The stars are nothing, glowing brightly in the night. For they are nothing without the existence of the dark, ultimate reality of Nothingness.

She is my void – I need be the star that glares only with her…

You know why ? Because when I told her of this small fantasy – the room, the atmosphere, the kissing – but, importantly, the cracked window, she replied with the most beautifully nauseating answer: Let’s just break the windows ourselves…


One thought on “My Stranger

  1. This is beautiful, it brings me to cornered off places I once knew.
    I wonder about such encounters, I wonder why it is they stain our memories in such a way, that we feel compelled to dream about them. I guess that’s all that is real in this life… Our dreams.
    And when the lights go out, the stars will always shine.

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