what is love?

what is love?

my cheeks flood with invisible tears of happiness. i hold them back, as a true man should.
is this.. is this it!? as each moment passes by, i already feel a 'one second nostalgia'. i do not know if time is moving fast or slow. rather, it feels like waves; scattering leaves under the hot summer sun, as i peep a little twig in her hair.

on the twig.. it's a caterpillar! the erotic ooze that creeps out from underneath it's sleathy and moist exterior, makes the other catepilllars hot; this i can smell in the breeze.

my lips feel desert chapped as i struggle to make any articulate or audible sound. i am flustered, but to my silent and confused joy, she is flustered as well. you, you, you, .. i start, but the sound of heartbeating (hers or mine?) is too loud for me to hear my own voice.

in my head, thoughts rush. in my mind our palms are so sweaty but as we look off into opposite directions our skin grazes and both of us pretend not to notice but we do and its so nice; i think about the sympathizing look on her face after i rush in a grab the bullys arm who was harrasing her, but thankfully he turns his attention to me and pummels me and after i smile as she says you stupid! why! tears down her face. finally as thoughts rush through my head like lemmings rushing off the side of a cliff, i catch one in mid-air.

you, have a twig in your hair.

the effect is immediate, the ghost of picasso takes his ghastly red brush and wipes it up her face. she reaches for it and as if the twig was carrying the wieght of her pink embarrassment her throws it away. but the instant was too fast for common sense. she grabbed the twig and catepillar in the same area, smearing its juices along the ridges of her fingertips like road kill along the gravel of 90e fw.

she shrieks! i rush over and catch her as she falls in my arms. i say, as the spirit of romeo takes quick wheel on my tounge. 'sometimes a bug and a twig is enough for me to fall in love'. red as she is, her cheeks flush with the joy of youth, an intense but fleeting aphrodisiac of having all your nightime prayers answered for your one true love in a ironically heathenous moment due to the heartbreaking death of an innocent bug-child.

ai..aii...aishteru.

ah! this is what love feels like. like lemons squeezing on your hand to make lemonade... so sweet, but that one cut makes it sting so bad that those invisibile tears peers out into the physical dimension.

she was unknowing grabbing my nicest dress shirt at the moment, but i would work at the dry cleaners for a year just for this moment so it was worth it. catepillar ooze is forgoten and i only see her pale face in all the universe, like hunter on the beach who found a moment-diamond admist 100000000000 grains of moment-sand.

this is it this is it this is it, nothing else matters, not even the fact that i got a C- in pre-calc and my mum will not let me see the satifistcation of a dinner plate for week. i push the hair across her forehead, my subconcious feeling little moments of triumph for each moment of traction that my nails graze her skin. i can see her pores.. her skin is not so perfect as i imgined in my dreams, so i wonder what kind of face wash she uses, perhaps its the make up. i can tell she got up early to put it on. and the little droplets of sweat, they look like little universes themselves, each carrying the pheromones of my multi year long lonesome midnight thought dilemma.

but i cannot be distracted by the beautifully imperfect nature of her complexion or her evenly distributed facial structure. not even the mole above her right eye could do that.

a single moment passed, and i say i love you too, each glistening word falling gracfully from my mouth like atomic bombs, until they cause a seismic explosion in her heart, therby ending the war of unrequited lust and desire.

i feel the smooth fairy like curve of her body along the sinews of my forearm. they pulse at different intervals. then i feel her back tensen as her tries to intersect her love with mine, through method of kiss (or so i expect). the blood of bushido in my heart and chivalry of knights in my soul trigger and instead of her working so diligently to reach my face, i bow my face down for the intersection instead.

pursed lips against pursed lips. in my head i think about but do not notice the callousness of her own chapped lips. and slowly like a baby exiting the womb, my wet slob makes entry into her mouth-cave. frankly ,  i do not remember the rest, despite the feeling of wondering why is it that humans like to lick each others plaque, and thinking i guess it's not so bad, and hoping unaddmittedly that perhaps our pheromones were entering and exiting each others bodies.

to be continued