How could it be that he - as a poet - was lost for words he had used so often?
Words that time and again had the desired effect?
He couldn't think straight and in hindsight it became clear why:
he had been intoxicated by her scent en hypnotised by the fierce lifeforce
she projected on him through her eyes.
In her proximity his coherent thoughts crawled out of sight
into the corner of his brain he used to reserve for the little secrets he kept as a child.
Only when she left his field of view the fog in his head retreated.
Slowly. Ever so slowly. But it felt good. Very good. Almost too good;
if he wasn't careful she could act as a drug.
But oh God, how much he longed for getting addicted to her!
==========================================================
No comments:
Post a Comment