Author Information
Prose
If I were to write a story, I would write about a girl and the boy who stole her heart. I would write about the love. I would write about the lust. I would write about trees and the forests they live in. I would bring you to a place that I can see in my mind as clear as the lake that was there. I can still see the stars above me. I can still be entranced by the waterfall. This place is a paradise in its own way. But that is all background scenery. The real spectacle is not as clear as that. A hand undoing inhibitions; it was not a smart idea to wear belts. It is a race to the starting line. Two black shirts crumpled neatly. A shaky hand takes long to unhook clasps. “Ready?” Set. GO! Lips stumble, tongues caress. Pink, silver. Silver? A lip ring, nipple rings, does it really matter? The best type of math is when two equal one. Hearts beating faster than ever before. Dancing among the stars. The finish line is just the starting line. Stamina, among other things, keep bodies warm.
