seeingthroughshuteyes.

the remnants of the ice-cold bellini courses through my bloodstream. outside, fat flakes fall. mother earth laughs at those who had started wearing flip-flops. downstairs, fish cooks, rice bastes. beside me, steam curls out the top of my tea-cup. messily cut orange slices sit on a dirty cutting board, threatening to stain my white bed sheets with drops of vitamin C. 

i sit here, and i think of you. i think of us. i think of your kisses in the darkness. i think of you pulling me close to me. i think of you touching my face, flashing me a lustful smirk from across the club, grabbing my hand to lead me down the stairs.