Broken glass, tiny and sharp. I had a feeling that I'm swallowing it while I was looking at his breasts, kissing his shoulders.
Just like you try a new taste of ice-cream but it disappoint you. The same feeling I had now. Tiny pieces of glass were rushing out of my mouth, a bitter companion his sweet skin.
Through the air reverberate like on a wedding after the toast when the glasses are clinking. The ground which we were standing on, creak dissonantly like a walk of limping man on a stony road. Everything around was glittering reflecting the things and us completely distortional. Everything's breaking chaotic into glass cubes.
We were lost in a Picasso's landscape of roughly lines which were crumbling my heart. My exalted feeling of love collapses to primitive instinct. I wanted fast and passionately, clean and superficial without searching for any deeper reason.
We were sticking our tongues in the mouth and so we left the party. Mouth on a mouth can be hazardous. That taste can give us a wrong impression that there's something between us. We lay down on a playground behind the house. Correction: I throw him on a grass. Weight of his body covered glassy drops evening dew. From the point where we were lying could see bunch of garbage the local football players. Greasy white paper smells like garlic and minced meat. There was derby today.
The moment was knocked down dead. Exaltation was ruined. Saw the same happened in his eyes. Our lust fell apart and the reality broke through. We had no saliva only razor-sharp pieces of shattered sky.
I lie quietly next to him leaning against the ground.
That glass wounded our skin exposed to each other.
Why you were so attractive to me?
Why you were so attractive to me?
We thought the same and clearly saw it in the glassy sky above us. That was sad cognition of mutual indigestibility. We couldn't look each others eyes. We hated how could make love with a person that we don't care for, with a person who we don't know anything about and don't feel anything for. It was delusion how a sharp broken glass could be piled up on a beautiful crystal vase.
We were scratching garbage because our favourite sandwiches somebody has already bitten to.