Tags
art, drawing, kiss, love, scribbles, scribbling, soul, underneath, vigan
Under the subtle and serene night light of Vigan, I walked past through the cobblestone streets of Calle Crisologo while marveling the well-preserved stone houses of the Heritage City, sharing a stroll with a friend, with whom I secretly fell in love.
“At the end of age-old street, I’ll give you a gift…” he uttered. I was thrilled.
Then at the end of the magnificent walk-way, where few people took snapshots, and stores about to end their day, he leaned down, with no rituals and ceremonies, he softly planted a kiss on my lips. I was startled for a moment and then felt nervous, and then glorious all throughout. It was my first, and I was overjoyed it was with him, the man I loved secretly for all time, a man whom I thought would never notice someone like me.
“I knew it, the day you looked into my eyes…” he said, with his voice as if a whisper. “And I want you to know that I feel the same way too. I was scared at first, but I gathered all the courage I had inside when my soul whispered that I can’t live a lifetime without you knowing how much I love you…”
I just stood there, crying, burying my face onto his chest, with a heart exploding with great bliss, his arms wrapped around me, safeguarding my soul.
I can still fathom how that kiss felt like. His tasted felt like a moonbeam–gentle, heated, echoing a promise for a thousand years that the flame will last a lifetime.
That night, while holding his hands, with little sweat on my forehead, and a lousy, tired make-up, I died and reincarnated at once. And until now, I don’t mind dying and being reborn at that same instant.
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