Close your eyes.
Think of a quill- feather dipped in deep ink,
scraping slowly over thick parchment.
You feel the sensation,
The scratch of the tip,
The tiny specks of dust floating in the air.
Sunlight streams in from a glass window,
The air hanging with a sepia tone.
The sensation is real,
Your mind fools you into experiencing
Something you just thought about.
I woke up today, to a kiss.
Not a real kiss, one in a dream
But the sensation was so real I can still feel
The brush of his skin on mine.
It’s eerie, uncanny, how vividly I remember, the back seat of a bus, a window to my left and the engine revving.
His nose, the beard, and my reflection in his gaze.
The nervousness in the air, we hadn’t done this before,
For some reason it was prohibited.
And then my lips pressed into his,
His mouth slightly parting,
A sigh or a breath
And I can still feel it.
It’s more real than some of my realities.
And I have never seen the man before.
I don’t know who he is.
I just remember his kiss,
Like it happened yesterday,
In an alternate reality.