About A Moment

A Story by Moustache

Forget how the sky looks at certain angles when the sun is setting. Look at me when I lift your chin with two fingers; watch me as I kiss you. It would not be like anything you tell me, I guarantee it. There would be no oneness of different souls, no fiery unity, no magnet arching your neck back and drawing my lips mysteriously to yours. Yes, my breath is sour; I've been drinking. And the roses around us are dead because I forgot to water them. The warm breeze will not suffice to carry us to another planet where one kiss gloriously mends my heart to yours, but hold on to my beard if you feel yourself about to fly. I love earth.
And I love you, which is why I retain your lips even though its hard to breathe. And my chest hurts because I'm scared to death knowing this moment will pass. And in that space between putting your novel down and calling it a night, that short number of seconds you spare to think about me, know that I can never show you anything you read about. But these are the things I write whenever you come to mind.