Soft curls around my face, light fabric dress. Evening. Night.
I can barely see, and there's something dusted over the place, some sort of sweet possibility. Endless days that melt into day-like nights. Nights that make me want to stay awake until the sun rises. Nights that I never want to end.
Something catching in the air, a soft sort of excitement, blossoming in my chest. A clean white shirt, starched and stiff under my cheek. Bulb lights stringing like fireflies above my head. Warm arms holding me awake, holding me comfortable, shuffling to soft music.
Anything feels possible in the summer, a mischief hangs silently in the air, like a daring promise. The world could be yours, if you would only take it. Honeysuckle sweetness, playing tricks, intoxicating you with possibility.
Checkered dance floor, clicking shoes. Holding hands, shoulder height. Hand on waist, shoulder underneath hand. Looking down, at black trousers, leather sweeping in and out of view. Butterfly clips, eye sparkles, pomegranate lips. A scarf trailing my shoulders.
The invention of a perfect moment.
Too bad fantasy only entices you so long.
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