Scene Eight – Apart



We roamed the stretched, darkened halls of the villa

Silently creeping through webs of rooms.

Sleeping forms oblivious to our small grumbles and

thundering heartbeats

Our half-hearted, contained giggling

ricochet against the marble floors, gingerly echoing the halls

He knew we’d be in trouble
if anyone woke from the long day’s needed slumber

But persisted to keep mucking about
the three thousand square feet summer home

I succumbed to his infectious brown-eyed smiles

He promised a surprise.

The torch lit corridor came to an end

Our attention came to the only black oak door in the villa

My room was on the other side.

His mother knew the underlying confessions of love

in the way
he touches my cheeks and whispers my name,
in the way
I smile when I stare at his lips.

The black oak door belonged to his room.

It was his, wrapped in his salient scent.

He ducks through and latches onto his king spread bed

Closing the door behind me,

head swarming excitedly with ideas,
gut flitting with nervous butterflies

Is the surprise seeing his room? I wondered.

[/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]I went to Ibiza with his family two weeks ago

His father, thinking me as part of the family, invited me on the summer getaway

I’d been bombarded with questions from his many cousins and aunties

And with activities masterminded by his mother to get me focused on everything but the person I wanted to spend everyday with.

Things died down when mama dearest ran dry of ways to keep me occupied.

“I’m sorry love! I just don’t want you two doing something stupid”,
she expressed in her rich Spanish accent when I found myself alone, staring awkwardly into her face.[/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]—

We sat on the bed, soft palms caressing each other

Subconsciously enjoying the fit of his hand in mine

The only louver left wide-open sweeps a warm breeze

tickling my brown skin

The soft strumming of a guitar oozes through the opening,

Added an effect to the way we sat, deep coffee-brown staring into caramel brown.

The ambient candlelight cascades our shadows against the walls

Glowing sugar brown skin
Attached to
deep bronze skin

Palms roaming aimlessly

Each speck of skin too perfect to graze with calloused hands
yet too insistent to deny soft hands.

I didn’t screw up
but I knew his mother was right for keeping us apart.


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