The party is over; diamonds shatter upon the floor where we dance unwarily contemplating each others next move. Although red wine lingers within the cracks of your lips, you're intoxicated by the lights spinning on the ceiling. A black balloon with a red piece of string floats among the fog; dreary and thick of stale cigarette smoke. You're smiling, stumbling on the words that threaten to fall from the corners of your mouth. Amazingly, they fail to canvas the space between us as you drop the bottle held loosely in your hand. I'm nervous, deciphering the language of your movement. Like a movie, black and white, you move forward anticipating the reaction of envious spectators. Your lips find mine; surprisingly cool, longing for my response. Much like the black balloon, I drift away in your kiss--
Creative Writing Piece | By: Kristina Caron
