was falling the night is dark and noisy. The lights of the waterfront mingled with silvery reflections of the waves, the southwest wind made them tremble shaking the leaves of eucalyptus trees. The sea was rough, moving like a restless soul groaning and howling beneath a sky cut in two by a sharp crescent.
was already dark in the room, but we got up to turn on the light to illuminate a lamp to pour his soft haze around it. We stayed there in the shadows, sitting together on the leather sofa to confess, to haunt us. With her fingers she tortured rings, redirecting them with continued employment. I put my hands to the face or let roam around the knees. Our stories were fed to remain silent and say that, but slowly we built something day after day, brick by brick. When I seemed to sense that a note had tears in his voice that cracked as a sudden crack opening in the ice, I realized immediately mistaken: it was one word to ignite the shadow, that I had to open wide horizons calculated to invade the fields of my thoughts as a fast, well-armed army. "We." It was a long speech and articulate what she was doing at that moment, maybe I was distracted. "We", the mind registers, we wrapped a moment, recovered from hearing the last sentence. "Now we can be ourselves." As a matter of fact, a cell, a pair. One plus one.
My sadness already waved a white flag, surrendered without a fight, he softened. Us. That is, the two of us. I fell on his neck and kissed me. I began to undress her passionately, feeling his skin beneath my fingers, to caress the body that smelled of citrus. I felt the sea incattivito mix with our rapid breathing. I felt his hands on his back, the tip of the nail. I was inside her now, it was moving fast on her hips and I was wondering if it was joy or pain, if I had fallen into a hell or a new paradise.
Mike Jory, "Thinking of You"
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