Memories, they bite. Crawl out of the open books to haunt blurred visions.
Other memories, they calm. They trickle onto the blank pages, allowing you to revisit them whenever desired; but can also be shunned away.
Laughter. Smiles. Butterflies. Happiness. Excitement. Love. Familiar emotions.
But also new. Presenting a flame of new experience.
A licking color of warmth and comfort, that drives away the creeping hands,
A sea of little movies that allows long fangs to be forgetten
Even if momentarily.
The flame; growing, growing. The warmth shooting out, coursing through purple viens.
Returning color to cold cheeks, a deep blue to glass eyes, a spark to a simple touch.
A flame that creeps up the shelves of books, burning and scorching newer ones,
Combusting and demolishing older ones.
Many creatures of the dark, disappearing. Your face swimming before me. Smiling.
Memories start to bubble below, threatening to destroy your face.
But this time I bite back and the bubbling goes away.
Your smile widens and I fall asleep, bon aussi.