Six minutes later. -S. Six minutes later
Agony twisted thoughts followed one, and again inside my head. Gorged, desperate, filled into its vortex, in this tortuous wait seemed eternal. The latter was succeeded with a gross rate, tense, I was now immersed in the viscous sea of pitch time. Arrested him, in the anxieties and my hands in hers, my fantasies, my desires, my thoughts captured most immoral with my hands on it all began, sinuous dance revolved around their wells wormwood and died in the blackened center of each iris. Even lay my head out of his own, unwilling to see the possibility of outright defeat etched on their absinthe eyes, and yet could still see them etched on my eyelids fatuous fire, lightning, glaucous depths in the midst of utter darkness. Tense and expectant, and even in the likelihood of failure, the pale, timid idea of withdrawal, even more frightening than any sort of scorn, hovering, waiting.
However, I should have expected a new spell from his lips, without requiring perhaps the vain need the slightest contact with the mine to cause deeper relief to my suffering. It was just him, his essence and sweet spells hidden under what sentences incited fan the flames that consumed me. It was time, place, and above all, was him. Was I ever would seize the poignant melancholy that night when diluted in that desperate pitch needles and tic tacs , when your body and mine were together only a mark on her bed and groans still pronounced that moment would have been fatal become echoes of the past. Perhaps prudence to recall your side when the king star shine on both bodies frolicking in bed. Both bodies as ours, and yet so alien, so unlike our primitive natures, so spirited essence caged in the confines of those bodies now wanted. Hovering the thousand questions and just maybe now that my mind was eager, without shame, without remorse for the future melancholy. Determined, dared to be torn in pieces for when the dawn will arrive, if it for my intended destination. I still panting after dancing continue the memory of the steps between spells of the sorcerer who I was smooth voice ever section of malicious underworld.
Of course the reality, nevertheless, did not lose its overwhelming strength. I went, winding and rough behind their steps, the unspoken promise of more tense and overwhelmed to stop in front of the huge building that stood before my eyes. He however gave no time for doubt or hesitation to shorter, our feet left the night, blurred view of the envious stars as introduced us to the place and the walls we were locked in their silent facades and attentive ears. The guide tacit Noah did not wait, or is that perhaps my troubled senses too longed evidence. After a few moments, among which are mingled curiosity and eager anticipation, the metal elevator doors opened before my eyes, closing the same way when we had crossed, I felt the ineffable feeling fine to finally leave everything behind to enter a single dimension, new, reflecting layer of which only two people there on the chrome surface and diffuse those doors, formed as candid portrait. Almost fused, one over the other, the row of the smile that his words recorded on my lips transpired camouflaged and dressed in silk. I stopped studying our picture to close my eyes and feel, without seeing him with mortal eyes, I guessed the faint and vague curvature of her mouth, whispering spells on my skin, the unmistakable din of those eyes that last in my memory for everything that this body will be left of earthly existence.
The guide was again necessary because every moment of waiting, every step, my mind is clouded and hindered my movements more frequently. I thought nothing would able to mitigate that sense, nothing could have appeased the anxious beast, until faint clicks through bolt entered the heart of this incredible dimension of furtive lovers.
And there it was, he, concise and yet larger than ever. From the aroma that permeated everything, the mixture of snuff, cologne, timber and coffee. It was a look that I deemed inaccurate, inappropriate to what a room like this deserved. I wanted to hundreds, thousands of eyes to see every tiny detail that gathered with others around me, knowing the path and its indication at that time did not matter at all. I can only say that at that moment of fulfillment imprisoned for a moment his hand firmly on temporary child farewell, and though my feet were hesitant to part with grim and gloom for the eyes, my eyes went all. Each measure absorbed tattooed on the walls, making them play in my head from the most angelic ringing, trembling digits crossed the voluptuous curves of brown figurines on the shelves; color dowry indivisible pair of cats eyes and wormwood -jade, moss and emerald.
drank of it, in its purest, made essence. Of his art, his melodic, soulful passion with butterflies fluttering of the decor. I smiled, realizing how overwhelming and irretrievable moment and looking toward the silent figure that all would have seen perhaps in bewilderment, and perhaps, hopefully, understanding everything just to see the wonder permeated my eyes, I approached him, the haven of his arms, the attachment of the wells of absinthe.
- I am in you. whispered with breathless anxiety, taking my hands beautifully chiseled face as he announced the most exciting news .- In your world, your soul is gathered in this room. And cries, is not it? I groaned the words enchanted by closing my eyes, forehead leaning on her chin, my soul listening to yours: - cries again and again. -immersed in that moment, troubled breathing and senses, cried quietly as: "Noah, Noah" missing his name in the shelter of their walls.
was that, the perfect moment, the only shelter I could find that night to the distress of my soul, eager hands wrinkled folds of the silken shirt, leaving her face and stick to it. Backwards, from vibrant silent steps, I urged him to follow a path littered with a hesitant dance: - Lead me, my hunter. exclaimed, melting honey and wormwood of our eyes in that second desired. Although I was, a pesar de la avispada vacilación, quien nos pilotaba a ambos por el camino indicado con premura anteriormente, hasta toparnos con la puerta de la recámara: roble que emanó poderío albergado tras él; era la luminosa sensación de aquellos brazos, de sus faros glaucos, lo que buscaba retener por siempre.- Y no me sueltes.
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