𝑨 𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝑻𝒐 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑽𝒐𝒊𝒅 [ 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑑 ]

Wildest Dream

You have reanimated the bewitching Italian maschera mask of the 17th century- impelling an immense desire to my coquettish heart. I had a great lust for big bonny fans and hats and fancy and scanty gowns that illustrious people worn in midnight parties in London and you knew that- you do.

I was there, clamped down in my sexiest gown on the coziest table among the pretty faces on the party- waiting for you to go to me and cathechize me about the most expensive moonshine that I bought. As the symphony orchestra started playing the ballad, I did remember us- stuck in the stolen times lying in the field of peonies under the ray of the lustrous sun. Your ocean blue eyes were summoning me to dwell inside it- those were addicting and seductive. You came in, lips dripping with the glossy cherry martini that you drunk- thine lips imbued the feeling of the seventh heaven and I could not help myself but to feel the ardent desire for those.

God knew how much I wanted a dance with you- hands on my waist and our filthy eyes locking each other, prisoning the flickering sanity we had.He knew how much I wanted to be swept off by your feet- how much I wanted to be kissed by you- soft, calm, slow and lovingly in front of the crowd, but we could not do that. I wanted to rewind time- back to the fridays of 1865 when we would sneak out. I, in my nightgown and you, in your plaid shirt. Walking hand in hand amidst the cold winter nights, but frigidity didn't affect us- it was hot and we were on fire.

For one last time, I caught you smiling at me - approaching me with the demoiselle clunging on your left arm.

"Thank you for coming at our wedding."

You spoke with so much in it- was it longing, was it regret, lament? For me, it was an elegy that only I could fathom.

"Best wishes."

My red lips spoke. I bit it as it started to quiever and no, I should not cry. After all, I was just no one but a mistress; I was just the bride of your wildest dream.