Let The Juices Flow As They May

The stillness engulfed her. She sat alone at the table, contemplating life’s mysteries. She hadn’t felt this inspired in a while. It was rare that anything made her feel this strongly. But she was touched. She had been these past few weeks. She was passionate. The dull tingling in her left back reminded her of that. She wanted nothing more than to be free, inspired and liberated. Because she loved the way it felt. Time whizzed by when she was this engrossed. It was as if she was standing on the shoulder of a highway; stationary, watching as the cars swiftly flew by. The wind caressing her face, toying with her hair. It was almost sensual. The feeling wrapped it’s slender arms around her; embracing her, touching her deep down within.

 It felt like the birth of something new. Like the trees in Spring. She was bare like the boughs had been, but now she blossomed and bloomed. She saw things like she never had before. Sepia, Rose, Valencia, she saw the world through different filters. As if waking up and realizing the lights had been on all along. It blinded her eyes because it was all so new. But the light warmed her from inside out. She basked in it’s glow. Welcoming it now, as she had shunned it before. She wanted it to last forever; this feeling of euphoria. She didn’t want to let it go. And perhaps she could smuggle it away. Lock it within her, only to draw from it later, to cherish it when the darkness crept up on her from the shadows. It would fade eventually, of that she was certain. It would be priceless if she could somehow bottle the feeling. But she couldn’t. So instead, like an addict, she kept going back for more to the only place she knew. She could replenish her depleted reserve. Oh how she dreaded that day, when she would be cut-off from her source. And the day was soon approaching. Approaching with sharp fangs, lusting after her bittersweet blood. Image


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