(Memphis Tennessee - model: Alissa)
He served me tea, of course, in china blue cups and a teapot that could tell a tale or two. His eyes watched me as I placed a single sugar cube in my tea and slowly stirred. Clink clink. He wanted to know why I looked at him so much at the bookstore the other day. "Surely," he said with a half grin, "you've seen someone browse for a book before?" I refused to answer and instead drank my tea, of which tasted like blackberries. I watched his hands on that day, how they caressed every book he looked at on the shelves. He tasted them with his fingers, giving into their secrets that smelled like vanilla beans and faint perfume. His glasses sat perched on his nose and it took all of my willpower to not push them back up. He looked like he could kiss, back when a kiss actually meant something. "I'm rather boring," he said as he took a sip from his cup. "I teach words to people who no longer care." "Some still do," I replied. "Like me. A world without words is time for a razor." His eyebrows went up at my bad attempt of a joke. When he saw my smile, he licked his lips then said, "I see the Ancients still live in this world." He then leaned forward and touched my nose then gently moved his finger to my lips. "A heart that feels in black, ever more so than I could deign to dream." I stared into his eyes as his tea stained lips met mine. As we kissed, I felt his words enter my mouth, a gentle prodding of a curious nature. They tasted like sun kissed blackberries, much like his tea, yet with hints of tartness and spice. He offered them to me because I knew. When they settled in my stomach - giver, come here, lover, dictionary, forget, dreamlike - they created a warmth that spread to my feet. I felt one word - instinct - try to escape my lips, yet he reclaimed it. When we pulled away, he said, "Speak to a typewriter."