The sofa with no sunshine and the lonely version of me.

There were only me and her. Sat on a luxurious sofa. Her kisses felt like hugs, huge outgoing arms surrounding my neck; her lips sometimes expanded reaching it, casually or not. I was trying to comprehend her geography, her body`s shaped field, her peculiar way of fitting. But she did not permit me, as if I were playing the vulgar fool. It was not. I just wanted touch and mesure her as my sensitive hands claimed in a complete tuning with my core/pulp/the weak deep inside. Cherry flavoured lips. Smooth, delicate hands; long bright black hair. The sofa, I and She causing confusion for ourselves. I could notice, once, she was wanting to escape for a short while, even toiled, but she succumbed losing control afterwards. Words became coming out.

"Didnt I said, darling, that You would be mine?"
"We`ve met long time ago and You should know it was just for joy".
"I do, but whether You wish or not, I`ve ever been sure that You would be delighting my sweet words one day anyway yet."
"Stop being so proud about yourself, so safe; it seems a demonstration of loser`s weakness, a necessity of self-affirmation. You do not realise what does exist inside my mind."
"Oh dear, I apologise for disappointing You, but You`re just a character struggling against your inner fate within a lovely story of mine which i`ve made only for satisfacting You. I can recognize or/and create each step You go ahead or any way to."
"You are lunatic!"

After the enjoyfull soft argument she left carrying with her a delicious bitter slice of anger. That hit me whereas I do love angry ladies.

I spent all that night long thinking about her, features, thoughts, and finally her conceptions about the world - something quite despise and flippant.

We were absolutelly diparate. She: a decadent girl from high class society who was not used to not having lots of money to fritter away with any sort of foolishness. I: a young guy steeped by old-fashioned ideas, in brief an indefinite contradition between straight and left positions about everything, as if it were really needed to take any place. Being boring but explaining better: I was not stood up on the middle. I never were there. My main achievement to accomplish always has been not being mediocre. The worst injury someone could proclaim against me was it.

Next morning before the sun shows itself up completelly, she wrote me a sorry message. Said she was coming as well for the breaksfast.

We talked about cottages, countryside, whitened fields, corpse`s heat. The meaning of all was passing. Just going away handed with the wind which did not blow everlasting.

It was such a harmfull thing conceiving love this way. I was not supposed to envolve people to throw them away afterwards. Therefore anything was capable to fulfill me. Emptyness was a person used to stating me everytime that would not quit. And I still needed to learn how to deal with it patiently, till the end of the days.