Smooth Criminal

These ambivalent feelings. I know I should not, I comprehend the vice, yet I’m drawn to forbidden fruit nevertheless. The youth, the enigma, the zeal. And I don’t stop at wondering.

It’s like premeditated murder, but it’s not the one I’m plotting. Though I have a plan and I’m executing in cold blood — if the expression stands, as my blood is boiling, helped by summer at full swing, my dirty thoughts and eager excitement.

You're wooing quietly but surely; before they know they fall for you — I was told ages ago. And what used to come naturally is refined and calculated today.

A flawless plan executed in the best possible way.

Meeting her by the train, handing her a bottle of water instead of a bouquet, the conversation starts easily. Walking straight to a terrace bar nearby, overlooking the old town, the ambiance is helping her, as are the Aperols, she’s opening up and I just have to listen.

Changing venues, off to bowling. Sipping more Aperols and losing gracefully. She laughs at me and with me — and slowly melts. And she’s so good she can’t believe it. Empowered, my business self would add.

And it’s still just a lazy afternoon.

An early dinner nearby, authentic Neapolitan. By now, she accepts she’s being led, I somehow command this calm control and she’s at ease. She knows she can be vulnerable and she is.

We’re sharing meals and having more Aperols.

My place. I’m fixing her yet another one, then handing it over and starting to kiss her slowly.

There are many unvoiced questions lingering through her suddenly heavy breathing.

And she leans in.

Butterfly Effect

I know fuck all. Or considerably less. Nonchalantly ignoring the subject for two years until the last imaginable moment. I don’t think I slept the previous night — trying to invent ingenuine solutions to cheat the system.

Two years of my life are at stake, so is my reputation and bright future. Would I fail, I’d go work in construction, I say to myself, hoping I’d never happen.

I passed. Barely. Yet passed.

I could have slipped, and everything might have been different.

Kissing that tender skin of hers, touching that slender body, youthful oblivious joy soaking my mind, I conquered the educational system on my terms and this is my reward, starry night above the city, and just her naked self and me, I’m in love, always and forever. Till the day I’m gone.

She’s fast asleep next to me. I wonder how or even if she remembers that.

Infinite

It’s a date and it isn’t. The ambivalent duality of our relationship where denial is an integral part of reality.

One day, we could argue if anything ceased to exit or had ever existed in the first place. And the sun would keep spinning like my head that evening.

It’s early autumn, after dark, we’re above the city in a fortress, sitting around a campfire and listening to story-tellers. It’s cosy and intimate but it’s getting colder and I notice she’s slightly shivering, so I pass her my jacket.

And I just enjoy being with her, looking at her and keeping her company.

I feel complete. I don’t ask or even dream of more.

It’s all just a background of me realising how beautiful she is, inside and out, there is this mind-blowing forlorn saudade filling me up, mixed by the joy of having such fleeting moments with her by my side.

I do feel happy now.

She will never be mine and I will never be hers, we know and accept the rules, yet it does not matter. Not tonight.

And maybe it’s gonna get better before it’s gonna get worse and fade away.

But it does not matter now, there’s only present and that magical feeling that we are infinite.