For Fictional Purposes Only
So you've waited for the moment when you'd hand in your final paper as an undergrad. You answered the last question anxiously, THIS IS LIKE IT! Pen on the table and you are done with being an undergrad, you of course know the next step, and no one else does but you.
You leave the auditorium, you spot him waiting for you around the corner with a medium iced cap from Tim Hurtons, its cold outside he has no gloves on, and he actually walked 3 blocks to get your favorite drink to you. You let him hold you in his arms as you grab your drink from him. ITS OVER! He sighs, you don't. You just take in his scent; the smell of fresh laundry mixed with childhood innocence and boyish handsomeness. After what seems like eternity, he grabs your hand and you walk home, an abstract 8 blocks from the business building.
You hang up the phone, you watch him in the kitchen putting together some beef stroganoff, you walk up to him, hold him tight like you're never going to let go, like you never want to let go, your palms on his chest. He turns to you, kisses you softly on the lips. You look away. He grabs your face just in time, his oceanic blue eyes staring into the depth of your soul; he places his lips on yours again, this time you don’t turn away. You suck softly on his lips, move your tongue softly into his mouth. He grabs you tighter, as he wrestles with your tongue in his mouth. You want more from him, your body closes into his; he lifts you onto the counter *deleted scene*
When you're in love, time ceases to move, you want to stay in the moment forever but reality always has a way of taking joy away from you.
He watches you as you pack your things, he clearly doesn't want you to go, you don't want to go but you know that you must go. You promise him that you'll be back. The two of you take a moment for yourselves. He grabs you again and has his way with you, you let him.
He helps you park your things; you have less than 24 hours to go. You decide to walk around the city one last time, you remember walking around the city the first time with him and he seems like a habit you've gotten so used to that you don't know how to give up. He has become your cocaine, your life line, your nicotine. Oh damn, you don’t want to leave, even if it is just for a visit. You are loosing your mind and you know it, but you smile at him as you take time out at the city hall to watch the lights and other lovers walking around
attendre pour moi
Parceque je t'aime
Your last night in the city.
You spend it, in his arms, you both cry, share some pizza, make plans for December, even though its months away. You laugh with him; you share your worst fears with him, some of your worst fears. You profess your love to him in ways that words fail to do, and you do it, again, and again, and again. Not for the pleasure but for the memories of the wonderfulness of his inner sex god! Only he satisfied your every need. You watch him finally fall asleep as day started to break, you watch his muscular body, lie naked on the sheets that you both picked out, the paleness of his bare skin, matching the blond hair on his head, and you picture those oceanic blue eyes of his that should be searching into the depths of your soul, now covered by eyelids.
As you drive to the airport, you want to stay with him, in his warm embrace; the city had been a terrible place until he came along. Oh that brutally freezing winter night, you were walking back to your dorm room after a long cram session forced upon you because your promiscuous room mate was doing unrighteous things to yet another stranger. You were matching home to tell her to move her whorehouse to a different location; your room was for sleep not coital activities. After all you’re black and African and if that wasn't something to fear, then you were going to have to talk to bleach your skin white. You were so ready to tell her off, if only you could see your way in the awful blizzard.
He bumped into you, furious you. The you that was tired of getting pushed around, but that you calmed down as he apologized profusely for not looking. Sure you blamed him when in fact it was your fault. He wanted to show just how sorry he was by buying you dinner, you tried to say No, but one look into his angel eyes and you muttered "uhn uhm".
He brought you to OAKHAM HOUSE. You'd never been there but you loved it, you ordered the day's special, and he was a nervous wreck, you didn't know what happened to the confident boy that asked you to dinner. You loved him, you loved his eyes, the way that he tried to find his words, the fact that he was a final year engineering student with lousy jokes from The Simpsons that you got. You loved that you two talked till Oakham closed and you walked to get "coffee" at Tim Hurtons and you talked till past 3 in the morning.
You loved that he walked you back to your dorm room, you imagined his lips on yours, and when he didn't kiss you goodnight or ask for your number, you ran after him and got his number and you've been inseparable ever since.
You smiled at him, his face still the same 4 years later. You shake your head in disbelief, he wondered why? You knew not because he asked with words but by gesture, but you never told him what thought was on your mind. You didn't want to leave him, you pulled the couple thing that you hated so much, you cried like you lost your money, and he was there for you. He made you promise that you would come back.
Ma cherie dans votre yeux je vu ma coeur
attendre pour moi
As you said your final goodbye, you walked slowly through customs. You are about to go through customs, you turn one last time to your love, you yell out I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU. He starts to wail but manages to mutter ME TOO.
The moment you get off the plane, your entourage is at the Muritala Muhammad airport, waiting at the gates to receive you.
"Madam, we've been expecting you, how was your flight?" the PA says
You nod in her direction and throw your bag to the floor, but it doesn't hit the floor, it is caught by a young lady whose existence didn’t seem to move you.
As you walk with your entourage through customs, not caring for anything or anyone around you, your mind goes back to the lover you’ve left in
You arrive “home”. Without civility to the available help, you match to your wing of the huge villa to freshen up. You start to undress when someone knocks on your door. You spring off your bed as if by clockwork to the door. And there was, looking as good as the last time you saw him, but you didn’t feel the same thing you felt the last time you saw him, your heart doesn’t beat like it fast like it did before. You let him put his hands around you but you didn’t feel safe, you are back to be his wife, but your heart belongs to the man you left behind.