14-01-2010, 06:48 PM
This is a piece I wrote in the last fifteen minutes before going to bed last night, which I turned out to be quite pleased in. Comments and crits appreciated.
Kiss in the Blizzard
The snow is falling heavily now, leaving its stark white footprints scattered all over the place. I vaguely notice my hair beginning to get wet through my woollen hat, my head resting alongside yours on the ground. It’s an odd scene, two teenagers lying next to each other in the snow, but for me, it’s the perfect one.
The tranquillity of the moment; the silence of watching white flakes tumble mesmerizingly to the ground makes me think. As we lay outside the rickety house on the hill, feeling like the only two people in the world, my thoughts turn to you, and of your silky brown hair (though you dyed it black a few days ago – if you ever read this, I preferred it brown) and your deep, deep brown eyes that seem to know much more than they let onto.
I look over surreptitiously, and see that your skin has gone white in the cold, making your freckles stand out even more on your face. And as the snow falls, it melts on your perfect lips; deep red with a certain thinness that makes you look as though you have something to say, but are too shy to say it.
As your chest gently moves up and down, I notice that your slender figure is shaking a little, most likely because of the cold. But I know the perfect remedy. I’ve always been good at helping people.
I roll over slightly, onto my side, and look you straight in the eyes.
“Cold?” I ask gently, and can only smile as you nod your head in the most adorable way possible.
I lean over your face, and without hesitating, brush my lips against yours; red meeting red in the white snow. I turn back over and notice your cheeks have gone furious scarlet.
“Better?” I ask. You mumble the word that I’ve waited for for so long, and I smile contentedly, looking back up at the icy war between clouds, snow and wind.
I told you I had the best remedies, didn’t I?
Kiss in the Blizzard
The snow is falling heavily now, leaving its stark white footprints scattered all over the place. I vaguely notice my hair beginning to get wet through my woollen hat, my head resting alongside yours on the ground. It’s an odd scene, two teenagers lying next to each other in the snow, but for me, it’s the perfect one.
The tranquillity of the moment; the silence of watching white flakes tumble mesmerizingly to the ground makes me think. As we lay outside the rickety house on the hill, feeling like the only two people in the world, my thoughts turn to you, and of your silky brown hair (though you dyed it black a few days ago – if you ever read this, I preferred it brown) and your deep, deep brown eyes that seem to know much more than they let onto.
I look over surreptitiously, and see that your skin has gone white in the cold, making your freckles stand out even more on your face. And as the snow falls, it melts on your perfect lips; deep red with a certain thinness that makes you look as though you have something to say, but are too shy to say it.
As your chest gently moves up and down, I notice that your slender figure is shaking a little, most likely because of the cold. But I know the perfect remedy. I’ve always been good at helping people.
I roll over slightly, onto my side, and look you straight in the eyes.
“Cold?” I ask gently, and can only smile as you nod your head in the most adorable way possible.
I lean over your face, and without hesitating, brush my lips against yours; red meeting red in the white snow. I turn back over and notice your cheeks have gone furious scarlet.
“Better?” I ask. You mumble the word that I’ve waited for for so long, and I smile contentedly, looking back up at the icy war between clouds, snow and wind.
I told you I had the best remedies, didn’t I?