Writer's spell

 I don't even know how I explain this, I am supposed to know that I can't fall for a writer instead I would fall for the characters that he describes and personifies as he bleeds on the paper. 

I couldn't help it, I run to sin in the name of discovery

If you know me well, I am always exited about art, even for the types of art that I am not able to craft yet, I would say that art touches my soul more than any human being will ever try to.

It all started when I found out that he does not only do poetry but also write short stories that are a bit erotic. That drew me in even further. because I love a good book, cigarettes, and fantasy let alone romance. As I read his story, I couldn't help but visualize all of the details that he is giving. My curiosity grew further to explore what he offers and test the bit of who he says he is. 

I mean I am creator too, somehow I know if  this person was just building a character that will live in the mind of the readers relentlessly or if poetry came to life and fuels the living daily. 


I adored the writer and his characters, I held myself together so I couldn't approach and strike a conversation, I knew I would have a short if I wanted one but my ladylike dignity muffled my ill intentions.  I fantasized about him a lot to the extent where I have read every story he wrote and every poem he composed.

I reached my consesus, I mean I came back to my senses and acknowledge the growth and was ready to move on until I met him in the crowded park years latter and my mind went lustful as I glanced at him again. Good girls should hold on to their reputation but clearly I was failing. My mind went back to square one where I was willing to find out the reality of the author instead of fantasizing the characters. 

He approached and gave me a warm hug, his cologne lingered in the air, a subtle mix of musk and sandalwood that made my heart race and my palms sweaty. I played a flirty game, being nice and avoidant; being a lover and reader, I had to find balance to plot my ways. 

When the night fell off while I dance my soul out to keep my body fit and my mind clear, I bumped into him again and I knew I needed to close his case of my list. I didn't bother to use words, our eyes talked. I had two choices to feed the temptation and to let it go but the good thing about me, I don't let go, I let it burn. 

 

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