The Beach Story
The moon went into hiding. Shy was drenched all over it. Digesting so much love was cumbersome for it to grapple with.
The clouds had come in at the right time. But they won't aid it for long. In minutes, the agony of having so many unloved scars on its surface with hurt it again. The Sea of Tranquility with its massive desolation will scream the most.
Millions of miles below, the two are at the beach thinking how life has given them what they wanted. Each other. Eyeing the gorgeous moon sneaking behind the clouds, they look at each other again. And kiss again.
The frothy waves turn a bit dark with the sudden absence of light. But they cannot lose their color. They were too overwhelmed witnessing the romanticism played out on the beach. The moonlight might shimmer on them and make them look pretty - to no avail. They roar to their best - to no avail. They still couldn't find a partner.
Another kiss later, he extracts a bottle from his rucksack. Old Monk. The finest Rum. This orgasmic moment of happiness should never be forgotten. A toast, a sip later, they again kiss. Time freezes again.
The moon looks onto the waves. The waves look up to the moon. Maybe there is really something called Love, they silently chuckle.
----
Totally fictional! Hopefully non-fictional someday!
The clouds had come in at the right time. But they won't aid it for long. In minutes, the agony of having so many unloved scars on its surface with hurt it again. The Sea of Tranquility with its massive desolation will scream the most.
Millions of miles below, the two are at the beach thinking how life has given them what they wanted. Each other. Eyeing the gorgeous moon sneaking behind the clouds, they look at each other again. And kiss again.
The frothy waves turn a bit dark with the sudden absence of light. But they cannot lose their color. They were too overwhelmed witnessing the romanticism played out on the beach. The moonlight might shimmer on them and make them look pretty - to no avail. They roar to their best - to no avail. They still couldn't find a partner.
Another kiss later, he extracts a bottle from his rucksack. Old Monk. The finest Rum. This orgasmic moment of happiness should never be forgotten. A toast, a sip later, they again kiss. Time freezes again.
The moon looks onto the waves. The waves look up to the moon. Maybe there is really something called Love, they silently chuckle.
----
Totally fictional! Hopefully non-fictional someday!
posted by Tejas at 1:02 PM
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