gypsy_girl_by_sheptunka-d3gb5kq (Custom)

She danced like a ragged angel. She danced like a gypsy, under the lustful moon and the million eyes of the great city.

The days we spent, my friends and I, gazing out at the lost paradise, the place by the river, the shimmering water. She left me once, in love and in lust. They said I was crazy, they said she had the eyes of the devil. I longed to see her eyes again & when my friend Richie whispered in my ear, he spoke words of blasphemy, he said she could only do harm. My fingers tingled as I gazed.

She was an exotic beauty. A perfect mixture of long silky black hair, flawless cocoa skin and a slender body with long legs to go with soft lips and innocent blue eyes.

It was in the midst of that communion that I found myself directly in front of her, looking down into those innocent eyes listening intently to every word as they rolled off of her succulent lips, knowing that the stars had finally been properly aligned, fate had intervened.

Her dress was tight around her delicate curves, and her fluid movements made me scream inside, a thousand beats in my chest. She swayed by the mystery of the shimmering river, she danced in the dying sun of the evening. Day by day I watched, I listened, and I could never leave. My desires drained my eyes and my bones stuck out like thorns.

The other boys, they left. They returned to their corners, to their café conversations and matters that are of little interest to me. I stayed under the endless skies, the never-ending faces, the ancient wall, still, as time never is.

Her Spanish dress, that rainbow smile, a gifted sorceress. At times her origin was almost found, her roots almost seen. I studied her, she let me dream of forgotten kisses. My life became hers. I burned under the dead heat of the summer sun, I starved under the desolate moonlight of another night. My clothes left me naked and ugly. The harsh and inevitable ugliness of man.

Is this why we, the lost souls are forever tortured by unreachable beauty? A gypsy girl? A blazing love unfulfilled?

I wrote thousands of letters, speaking through my aching heart and the music of her wild freedom. My love burned in a furious venom. I told her of my travels, I asked about hers. Had her eyes seen the far, distant hills? Had she found her heart in an unknown place?

Her fantasy vision raced through my mind, my trembling scribbles. I never let her see them, she never read my words.

And one day she never returned to that patch of grass by the river, the holy place that she had once made home. Her wild eyes and flashing eyes burned in my mind. Time passed, tragically and always, but I never forgot that secret dancer of my sinful eyes, the lost child.

I dreamt of her, always. Time lost the value its given when the spirit is filled with hope. My vision blurred, my friends sadly and slowly forgotten. The letters of my soul never died. Her dancing soul lifted my mind. Unconscious time fooled me. Her eyes, slow-motion eyes, blue as the ocean, not forgotten.

My closing eyes brought flashes. The flowers of her dress swayed to the hidden music of silence, the tragic beat of time. Crying for a love unfulfilled.

The realization of a man’s untimely death.

The gradual darkness that pours over the lost and lonely wanderer.

For a loved man does not die.

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