ethereal.otherworldly

United States of America

soft n sapphic

dreaming of goddesses, sunflowers and italian sunshine.

Message from Writer

every poem is a different style, leave me and my everchanging existence alone

safe part 7: stumble

October 19, 2017

FREE WRITING

2
i'm driving now; amber's tired. she's still awake, though, head resting on the window, fingers playing with the frayed ends of her sweater. she's watching the road. we're nearing paris. the lights of the city reflect in her dark blue eyes. we've been silent for a while now.

"are you ever going to sleep?"

"dunno." she reaches out, as if she's going to touch the distant sunset, hold the falling sky. "do you think we could stop in paris? haven't been in months."

i bite my lip. "maybe. hella expensive, though."

she squints at me and laughs. "does anyone still say hella?"

"me, you noodle-like baguette."

she smiles and kisses my cheek. "that's good enough."

"you sappy little shit."

amber shakes her head, smiling. the city's close now. traffic is piling up behind us. the sun is bringing down the sky and the moon is just visible behind the cars. she closes her eyes, rests her head on my crunched up sweater. i bring up the windows for her.

"you better not spend all our fucking money on a hotel in paris ..." she murmurs, trailing off.

she's fast asleep by the time we reach the city. i've forgotten how much i missed paris. i look around, watching the people and the buildings, finding a little hotel in a pretty, cozy side street. a man takes our things up.

"amber." i shake her softly. "amber."

she pushes me back. "no," she says. "wanna sleep."

"c'mon, you lazy baguette. it's literally for five minutes." i pull her hair up and give her a quick kiss on the cheek. "there. you look acceptable."

"shut up. i'm not acceptable, i'm a beauty queen."

"sure. then you can be a beauty queen for another five minutes and walk up to our room." 

she glares and mutters under her breath, but soon she's up, carrying her sweater and stumbling into our cozy little room. we change together, both half-asleep, bare skin glowing in the moonlight. me and amber never finish changing. we exchange kisses and touches in the dark and the world is perfect. 

when we finally collapse into our sheets it's nearly midnight. i'm tired as hell but midnight in paris sounds like something we're obligated to see. i suggest it. amber groans. "nooo. we've put off sleeping long enough."

she's bluffing, because a few more words and she's out of bed. we lean against the balcony railing and watch the city of lights awaken. in the distance, the eiffel tower twinkles. the earth shines with thousands of lights. i can see the smoke rising from the buildings, the streets dotted with minuscule cars. i can't live in this city - far too big - but for a perfect night, it can feel like home.

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