fragile like icing
bittersweet as mugwort pud
your first morning kiss
Erm… hullo there. (This is rather awkward…)
Dear Reader, the stuff that was originally posted here has been removed.
We have done this because said stuff has since been included in one of our published books. We hope you’ll believe us when we say we’re not trying to be stingy. No, this has been done to honour the people who have already spent their hard-earned money on our eBook creations.*
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It was nothing serious, really…
Just some drunk kisses on the rave-up.
It was fully absurdly and freely
Two different hues of lipsticks on one cup.
We were peers… OK. I was a bit older.
The same musical tastes and life views.
We both were like a password-protected folder…
OK. She was always losing her clues.
When I entered to the kitchen she was painting a windowsill.
(I’m sure that right here I fucked up with articles and tenses.)
Yes, she was painting with a scarlet nail polish. A tiny quill.
Hellish stink. Hellish color. I swear, it was hell in all senses!
I went… and returned with a bottle of paint remover.
I just thought that red doesn’t fit. I would prefer black.
And she said, “Wow… booze. Cheers, my Rover…”
And she took a sip. Only one huge sip. Only a sip… and without a snack.
by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014