Thoughts Of A Twenty Something Year Old
Aspiring writer. Born storyteller.
I watched from my window – the black sea hang below an even blacker sky – supple bursts of starlight coating the air with sweet flavors of winterberry and rooibos. Sea foam hoping to catch those falling gems, mini treasures to carry out to great depths, probably wished for by lonesome sailors searching for a French kiss or that old topographic map, whichever feels more like home.
From here on this four-legged stool, I can simplify the universe into little pockets of the globe. It makes life a bit easier. Compartmentalizing like this. Seeing pieces of me in everyone else. Realizing that we are all ridiculously connected even if I will never know the faces of 99 percent of humans on this earth. And what’s more is that I will know even less about the space that surrounds our planet. The galaxy. Galaxies. What lies beyond.
The way you kiss me. God, I have not been kissed like that in a long time. I had almost forgotten all about romance. The rosy cheeks and swollen lips and star spangled eyes. How our tongues are made of honey and our lovemaking can be found among hidden gemstones and orbiting planets. Undiscovered galaxies and unexplained footprints on the moon.
