I feel like crying. Every time I think about a romantic date. A fine dine 3 star restaurant situated in the heart of a countryside. Blocked by all views of the outside. Not looking anywhere else but of the figure right in front of you. Just him, just that. Only him are you to look at. The yellow lights put way down low. You see him in the glow. Him in his dark blue shirt with calmed coloured stripes. You just feel dazed staring at them. His pants up tight with a lose dark brown belt from Aldo. You in your savvy dress with a sash so tight your figure blew him off his seat. The hourglass couldn't even reach. The length of the bottom dress was 3 inches above the knee cap. Your legs are like two wooden poles that have just been smoothed out. It smells natural like lavender in potpourri. The neck line of your dress dropped halfway through your cleavage. The flowery embroidery pattern on your dress makes you smile and not regret the price you paid for it. It elicited the eyes on the one whom you're staring at right now. His creamy tie suited your eyes and reflected them like glass.
Seated, you both gaze ridiculously in love with each other. Nothing could be heard but the soft bossa nova instrumentals streaming in the room from the live band of four. A singer's voice who's vibrated vocals strummed the ears of both - the couple. Both of them have been fooled by their own thoughts. Cupid has done his job dearly. Who could never fall in love with cupid I wonder so much.
The night ended as soon as they were breathing hard, gasping for fresh air. I could never imagine what kind of sulking all of them were to visit in their minds and thoughts. The soul has never been too satisfied with anything more than what the night has brought them.
No comments:
Post a Comment