She came home past her normally scheduled bedtime, tossed the keys on the counter, and let the dog out, still in her summer patagucci dress. Thoughts from the evening crashed along the shores of her mind, like the waves on the Na Pali coast on a full moon night in February -- loud and continuous. As she locked the door, she whimsily wished it would keep the thoughts out, too.
As she changed into her most favorite PJ's, she opened the bedroom window to feel the cool night air, and she smiled to her self as she gazed wistfully out into the twilight. As if on cue, she began to hum a few lines from "Come to my window." "When the door is locked, there's always a window..." she said to herself and listened as the crickets sang their night hymns.
She had always wanted a lover to come to her window. A welcome and impromptu visit. Whispers through the screen, warmth, embrace, moonlight... That would be so romantical.
She smiled again at this thought, glanced at her left hand, sighed, and slid the window shut.
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About Me
- Ali
- Fascinated by the movement of desire through Myth, literature, lyrics, religions, history, and shared experience -- and loving any good love story that arrests the heart and warrants a good sized cry towel -- I am a hopeless romantic at heart. But also a heady academic with a penchant for the feminine divine, who is rooted in a darling body wrought with emotions and feelings and perceptions of the vast and interpersonal relationships of the world, and effervescently intrigued by the dissolution of the fuzzy boundaries of self and other. More about me here: www.auspiciousprojects.com and twitterpated here: @manifestcookies
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