|Perfumes of a Story
Author: nw526 PM
Imaginative short story on longing and loving someone who can't possibly feel the same. What it means to feel alone when you've tried everything.Rated: Fiction K - English - Romance - Words: 330 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 1 - Published: 07-20-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3043662
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
There's a florist down my street who sells roses; red, pink, white, you name it. He hand selects the beauties that are so delicate that it'll make your heart melt. When you've got your bouquet, he wraps it in a crinkly plastic and ties it up with a soft satin bow. I got on my bike, rode down to the small little flower shop, and looked at it for a while. The aroma of its perfume twisted and fused with the cool air of nightfall and it was so beautiful, so indescribably alluring, so hopelessly glorious, that all I wanted was to place it in a bottle and keep it by my bedside table. After a few minutes, I biked. I biked and I biked. I biked all the way back to my safe, sheltered room and that's where I stayed. I didn't have the bottled scent, I didn't have roses; all I had were feelings.
With the picture of flowers still in my vision and velvet roses still on my fingertips, my mind coveted a souvenir as well. And, what better little trinket to have than memories and thoughts of you. My mind went wild as I succumbed to the teenage girl in me, and I was flushed with sweet dreams and honey-dripped scenarios. I had hoped they weren't too far fetched, but the sense in me tried to smother those hopes with little success. Being a dreamer and a realist is a deadly pairing.
I can't conjure words to paint the everlasting passion in your eyes. I can't describe the embers on your smile. I can't fathom the ocean in your veins and I can't understand the fire on your touch. No matter how quick my mind, no matter how clear my visuals, I will never be able to create what would happen to my feelings if I were right in front of you, right now.