In the boot of your car, there are several bottles of wine and a shovel of which we use to bury our secrets with because the world has no place for the likes of us. In your pocket, there are filters to block out the voices of those we once resembled, filters your childhood self would be shocked and alarmed to see. Much the same as how my younger self would be shocked and alarmed in coming face to face with the abstraction of what I’ve since become. In a field away from prying eyes, I place the blanket on a spot of flush grass and together we admire the unspoilt view of miles and miles of nowhere and everywhere with an ocean of blue sky above us that leads to an ocean of water as my hand slides beneath your top caressing your waist. And then it’s your breasts and then it’s my mouth and teeth on your neck and then you push me down upon the blanket and we roll and rock in ways none of them will ever be able to measure. In the distance, a city rumbles like a belly full of booze and not much else. In the hidden soil, all that we have ever lost is regained with each kiss. This globe is a tiny one, and yet we do what we do as if we weren’t mere humans but entities, like those on the moor up north, y’know, the one where Heathcliff and Cathy play? We taste these kicks and dig our fingers in pretending it’s not how it is but it’s exactly that which is why we’re here, kissing without the need for anyone else to ruin our vision. Your lips are cherry, and the way your hair catches the breeze, it’s a memory of London, and it’s a memory of paint on canvas and the quietness of my life before you made yourself known. We were always meant to find each other, and we were always meant to come undone in each other’s embrace. There was no other way. As my fingers touch yours and you whisper those words into my ear, I tell you to close your eyes and picture us stood at the end of a pier throwing stones into the sea. It’s a place we can go where they’ll never come looking. Where our love will remain as pure as the night when everything else crumbles. We discovered it almost by chance, and when it gets too much and we lose sight of things, all we have to do is go back, and our souls align themselves once more.
[ S. K. Nicholas is the creator of My Red Abyss and author of A Journal for Damned Lovers, his first novel. He is a brilliant writer and a member of the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective. To learn more about S.K. and A Journal for Damned Lovers read Jasper Kerkau’s interview with S.K. and his review of A Journal for Damned Lovers. ]
I Love your clever use of words.
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“all that we have ever lost is regained with each kiss”, I fucking love that. And you’re such a romantic fool I think I love you too. You have a romantic sensibility that is quite distinct and swoon-worthy. It mirrors the whimsy of life while retaining its crucial visceral elements.
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Thank you, Max. I think romances conquers all, even when we don’t want it to, and I’m glad you feel that way, too.
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romance is the reverie of existential nuance. so much that i’m willing to form such a sentence and not feel (too) ridiculous lol. i’m glad to have a comrade-in-arms*. if you get my meaning. if i don’t stop this now there’s no telling what will come next…
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I think such a sentence as that should be a mantra people abide by. It would make them a lot less angry and aimless in life. Comrades-in-arms we most definitely are!
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breathtaking and I so relate to this. See, I told you that you’re much cooler bruv!!
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That’s very kind of you, thank you! People don’t tend to associate the word ‘cool’ with me, but I’ll take it regardless 🙂
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that’s the uncool people trying to keep you down
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🙂
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both of you are cool as well as nerds. that’s the best combo.
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Reblogged this on RamJet Poetry and commented:
SK is mindblowing genius!
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Reblogged this on The Lithium Chronicles and commented:
This is a beautiful piece from one of my favourites
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I thank you a million times over, Nicole ❤
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The Earnshaws hold a special place for me, too.
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It warms my heart that they do.
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S.K. to me, sets a tone like no one else does. He builds imagery and paints emotions with colors so rich.
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Thank you, Kindra. That’s very kind of you. I’m so pleased you find this in my words.
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You’re so welcome. 😀
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🙂
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Just beautiful “Your lips are cherry, and the way your hair catches the breeze, it’s a memory of London, and it’s a memory of paint on canvas and the quietness of my life before you made yourself known. We were always meant to find each other, and we were always meant to come undone in each other’s embrace. “
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Thank you, C. I’m touched you find beauty in it.
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You paint with many different colors brilliantly but it is always beautiful when you let a little tenderness show
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Thank you. I think a little tenderness now and again can only be a good thing x
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Agreed. Many parts of our souls, our hearts to give voice to
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Reblogged this on Brave and Reckless and commented:
S.K. Nicholas/Sudden Denouement Literary Collective
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Reblogged this on S. K. Nicholas and commented:
My latest contribution to the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective.
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‘a city rumbles like a belly full of booze…’ brilliant!
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Thank you, Lois!
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