Silk and Satin
A spectre with a slender silhouette made a visit in my dream. She was wearing a dress that hugged her chest tightly but flowed freely as it reached down to her legs. A dress sewn from the memory of Valentine eve. As I try to recall it now, it seems like the dress was made of satin. Though I could be mistaken. Perhaps it was not the dress but the dream that was silky - as if the stuff were hugging my body.
She was a counterpoint from the depression I was feeling within my dream. She touched me with her fingers and I began to feel my body pulse. The atmosphere became warm in an instant. She spoke to me of the past and inquired about the present. Then this ghost offered me a future in a place where I could touch the clouds. A place I have long fancied in my fantasies. I siezed the invitation like a sea-stranded man licks the morning dew on his raft. The dream ended there.
Why did she visit? At the very least it was to tempt me with her touch. Maybe she wished to pour pity on my impoverished senses. Possibly, she fed my dying folly with an untasted pleasure. But a visit from a spirit is hardly ever good. I fear it wishes to make me waver in my resolution by making me drink a drugged draught made with a dash of deceit and a portion of pain.
There is nothing for you to gain my spirit but the unrequited fondness I've had these past five years. Need you be cruel to me too? Am I no different from the one that came before me? I'd much rather have you despise me then try to keep me where I am. I am tired of dellusions.
You seduce like a whisper. You are soft and light, yet intimate and sensual. Though ethereal; you leave me etherized. For this I am thankful because a whisper mutes no words between those engaged in the act. The intimacy amplifies the message tenfold. The sensation is simply the chorus, the protagonists of the play are the whispered phrases. The physical feelings are forgotten as the words rush past your ear and crash straight into your heart.
What then was whispered to me by your coming? That I've been foolish for far too long. That enough is enough. I hope that this is now the final episode - at least for a very long time. Goodbye my silk and satin spirit.
She was a counterpoint from the depression I was feeling within my dream. She touched me with her fingers and I began to feel my body pulse. The atmosphere became warm in an instant. She spoke to me of the past and inquired about the present. Then this ghost offered me a future in a place where I could touch the clouds. A place I have long fancied in my fantasies. I siezed the invitation like a sea-stranded man licks the morning dew on his raft. The dream ended there.
Why did she visit? At the very least it was to tempt me with her touch. Maybe she wished to pour pity on my impoverished senses. Possibly, she fed my dying folly with an untasted pleasure. But a visit from a spirit is hardly ever good. I fear it wishes to make me waver in my resolution by making me drink a drugged draught made with a dash of deceit and a portion of pain.
There is nothing for you to gain my spirit but the unrequited fondness I've had these past five years. Need you be cruel to me too? Am I no different from the one that came before me? I'd much rather have you despise me then try to keep me where I am. I am tired of dellusions.
You seduce like a whisper. You are soft and light, yet intimate and sensual. Though ethereal; you leave me etherized. For this I am thankful because a whisper mutes no words between those engaged in the act. The intimacy amplifies the message tenfold. The sensation is simply the chorus, the protagonists of the play are the whispered phrases. The physical feelings are forgotten as the words rush past your ear and crash straight into your heart.
What then was whispered to me by your coming? That I've been foolish for far too long. That enough is enough. I hope that this is now the final episode - at least for a very long time. Goodbye my silk and satin spirit.