delírios expulsos, amantes passados

She sang. Oh, beautifully, she sang. And lying there in the sofa, the headset to her mp3 player isolating her from the world, the rather pinkish hair spread on her face, the loose pants and tight gym shirt making her look like a boylie girl, she would just sing. Or scream out loud, like the neighbors would say.

Don’t matter. To me, she was just like a little piece of heaven. She drove me to heaven.

In this rare moment, when I could sit in front of her and she wouldn’t notice it, I felt more peaceful than ever. I could see her muttering her own thoughts into those songs, and I could do it forever.

Because I knew she was mine. And for a while, I was all tenderness. I would see her smile and such love couldn’t possibly be described.

Peace. She’s my own particular and unique piece of peace.

And she’s aware of it.

KADICHARI M.