Quick sketch to warm up the muscle after a long hiatus. 😀 She’s a sassy flamenco dancer.
After so many days, weeks, and months together, it was time to go our separate ways. Part of it will be missed; part of it will not. But the reality is we must make room for the new gal or guy that inevitably comes and settles in every three hundred and sixty-five. I know — melancholy’s hand makes its way up to your throat and soon enough it is hard to talk. Thinking of the could’ve beens, or of which was and now makes you feel proud. It’s sad to say goodbye… Adiós, number 5.
To feel your flame fanning my feet. It’s these little moments for which I live. As long as I can do this, it is not so bad that the pages of my calendar have turned to October and the marble floors are a frozen sea. As long as I can do this, let that inevitable cycle go on again and again.
‘Long as I can turn on the heat.
Staring into a volcano; getting lost in my thoughts, wishing it didn’t burn to feel you so close. Like the rain, you make me find words in my head very deep. Our chemistry helps me breathe. Here, nothing matters. My Raynaud’s is forgotten. Just as pumpkin-cinnamon-apple-spice is a cliché, you are worth the repeat.
But I’ll run away. Unfortunately, sometimes, I’ll leave. Nothing’s perfect, you see. Though the moment equals infinity, your flame is short-lived. Promises should be eternal. I’ll be searching for the conditional warmth that your current brings across other unconditional seas.