I like my whiskey with just a touch of water, at room temperature, and no ice. Just enough to bring out its depth and have me resting in a mellow embrace. Some evenings feel just like that and they're always the evenings that I spend with you. Heady conversation with silence darting beneath the streaks of light. Fuzzy laughter, the kind that springs from your stomach and refuses to leave your face for days. A couple of brief pauses, just enough to melt into the caramel glow of your eyes and get lost between the lines on your face.

I love walking along with you on crowded streets with our city melting around us. Bright lights, a melange of shapes and sounds, a stray cool breeze caressing us both simultaneously. The gentle ache of wanting to hold your hand as we nagivate through the familiar chaos, or maybe even just a graze, light enough to feel my skin against yours before it returns to the void that holds your presence within its hollow walls. And finally, that precious moment when we cross over from the mundane into the fantastic. When the clouds kiss the earth to release petrichor, when twilight gets tainted with the black of night, when you turn towards me and say 'Let's stop and stand for a while'. It's like the last dregs of whiskey moving through my bloodstream before rendering that moment of full-blown bliss.

The Cloudcutter


Himanshu Tandon said...

Wonderfully well written.
Welcome back :)

The Cloudcutter said...

Thank you, Himanshu. I guess I was lucky to be inspired.