Flash Fiction Writing

pour me a drink and pour your eyes over me.

You’ve always been the dangerous one. First I was your secret, your play thing, your high school taste. I was a risk you took, a risk to your cool factor, the image you’d molded of yourself as a bad boy, the streetwise one. If I was such a secret, doesn’t that make me the dangerous one? I know you more than you’d like me to. But you never stayed away.

Your hair was always long, but even longer now. You moved closer to me and I breathed you in: the smoke, the liquor, the past. Fogged up windows, hushed breath, so much history. And years later I still feel your hands, the first hands.
I was hazy quickly. You called it forward action, I called it liquid luck. I watched you from my booth, I pressed myself agains the wall, I let my eyes bubble up the length of my straw until I saw you looking back.
That band is loud.
That band is shit.
That band gets better the more you drink.
You slid into my booth again and I slid my hand across your back, down your leg. Your hand found my thigh. Don’t let them see. Maybe this isn’t such a game after all.
I’m told your eyes were on me when you sang. I know I was staring right at you. You were eating me alive. Everything burned, like guitar strings against calloused fingers.
As we left, there you stood smoking. Or talking. It didn’t matter. I grabbed your face. I kissed you like I knew I would. I couldn’t even tell you why.
I can only write about you with an elevated heart rate. With bass lines piercing the silence. When I dance in a dark room all alone. Maybe it’s because I only feel you when my heart is racing and my nerve endings feel alive and tingling. You are the dangerous boy, after all. You make me feel dangerous.
via *

10 Comments

  • ivette

    Nice…. you described the whole scenario…. for.a.moment there i felt in high school too, remembering those days…. great prose darling

    Reply
  • Katie Elizabeth

    Beautiful. You sure know how to bring your readers right there with you. Keep writing.
    XOXO

    Reply
  • Kayla Lynn

    what is it about the bad boy that is so fucking intriguing? i like the darkness i find within myself… this little hidden part of me that only comes out to play when he is around.

    Reply
  • Emma Jane

    Thank you, love. x

    Reply
  • Emma Jane

    You always leave the sweetest comments. Thank you so much x

    Reply
  • meg bird

    Goodness gracious. haha there is something almost uncomfortable about reading these things of yours – as if I've stumbled upon a private journal but can't stop reading. In a good way. I mean that in a really good way.

    Reply
  • AVY

    Dancing alone in a dark room, isn't that the prettiest picture imaginable?

    / Avy
    http://MyMotherFuckedMickJagger.blogspot.com

    Reply
  • Holly

    I never had a bad boy experience, really. I was always the bad girl. Always the one parents disapproved of. In fact that's what I am still.

    Beautiful writing my love xx

    http://thepersephonecomplex.blogspot.co.uk/

    Reply
  • D

    these stories are so far from my own experiences and yet i feel like i was there.

    Reply
  • bianca lolita

    wow I wrote something extremely similar, yours is amazing!
    You have some serious talent, babygirl

    xxBianca
    http://www.xoxololita.com

    Reply

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