Reply by Nora Aldohan

Posted on November 8, 2013 by


I switched my phone off as I lay in your arms, I don’t care what happens in the rest of the world that out borders your bedroom door enjoying the rhythm of our hearts beating until you broke it with a whisper.


I got off your bed and walked all the way to your door as if I was an inmate and as if it was the day they set me free but then I looked back as if the world outside the cell you locked me in was nothing but a battlefield.


And so I started unchaining my body, I took off the awfully orange chains, I mean orange is not really my color.


I started writing my own storyline starting from the top of your lips to the bottom of your hips, and right away I started telling it to your body.


It was more of a play than a story, and oh it was no short story.It was more of a musical, an opera where you know that when it gets quiet it’s only the calm before the storm, a long loud one.


I have never imagined myself as an artist but you made me feel like if I were some Shakespearean play and if you were my stage,

Like if I were Bocelli and you were the vocal cords and all the nonsense I cantare,

Like if I were to be Picasso and you were my very own canvas.


I came closer to you as if the inch between our bodies was a thousand mile.


In the stiff silence of stillness you can only hear your lungs exhaling in excitement and mine in wickedness. I heavily breathe my way down your ear loop. I part my lips reluctantly as if I was about to hit you with a bomb, a nuclear one.


I look deep into your eyes not uttering  a sound, its enough for now I think to myself, I draw a light smile in reply.


I slowly walk towards the door just as the curtains start to close. I opened the door and left the room with a sigh. You asked me why, well that’s my reply.

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