Kalopsia: The delusion of things being more beautiful than they actually are.
“He tastes new,” was all I could think as I was kissing him.
The way he kissed was so different from you, the way he held me so foreign, his hands on my skin so unexpected.
It was perfect. He tasted of alcohol one minute, I coughed out smoke the next. I kissed away the stray tears, that appeared at the guilt I felt, and I kissed away my worries. I kissed him under the flashing lights and for a moment everything was so unbelievably perfect.
He wasn’t you, and he can never hope to be you. He can’t have my heart the way you do. He can’t make my stomach turn like you do. He may have kissed me breathless, but he could never take away my breath away like you still can.
He was everything I needed as he looked straight into my eyes with such unadulterated lust that I forgot you for a minute. He caressed my hair, and gently stroked my face. His eyes as dark as mine, and with just as much feeling in them. With the music humming in my veins, I found a little relief in his arms.
He tasted of coffee, in the end, addictive and sweet. He was kind, muttering promises that he was going to break and sweet nothings that were empty. My heart pained for a minute at the thought of leaving him, but the next minute he was erased from my mind. Just like I need you to be.
You can call me anything you want to, you can insult me all you want, you can talk about me all you want. You can be hot and cold and accuse me of every crime in the book and I’d still never be able to be mad at you. No matter how perfect the guy in front of me is, my mind will forever be on you.
Because, he may have been perfect, but he wasn’t you.