Read as you please!

28.1.13

Dirty Dancing.





 


While the extravagant swear by their Chanel no. 5, I sit here and figure the smell of three things that I like any day; the smell of soil after the rain, the smell of food when I’m hungry, and how he smells like in the mornings.

The music blared in the club and he held me close for cosy dance. While I let loose in between and moved around, he told me I seemed different. Matured was the adjective he used. As we walked into his room later that night I could tell he was uncertain of a few thoughts in his head. Impressed, nevertheless.

I wish every Sunday mornings began in his arms after a tipsy night, but we both know familiarity breeds contempt.

9 comments:

  1. seems you had fun in the club and i love your writing style is mature and mysterious sounding which is really cool

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  2. It really is a shame that this life cannot be just a string of Sunday mornings. But I guess, then, the beauty in them would be lost.

    xx
    Lulu
    Breakfast After 10

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  3. i think you should embrace this type of familiarity whole heartedly.

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  4. the smells.. i can really get that
    xx

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  5. A few moments, wrapped in smells. Kept close to heart.
    That's the perception of a true writer.

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  6. Firstly thanx a ton for ur comment...:)
    Secondly ur writing is beautiful...u have a gift aprad....never lose it....
    #cheers
    ^.^

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  7. Smells can evoke such powerful memories
    My favourite is lemon x

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  8. I love how you ended this post with "familiarity breeds contempt." You certainly write beautifully. I always wish everyday is a holiday and the same phrase shall apply.

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These make me smile!