Coffee brewing, bacon frying, my grandmother’s peach cobbler. Fire. All familiar scents that once woke me from sleep. Little did I know until now of the ethereal smell of intensity, an aroma I’ve grown to love more than all the others because it not only wakes me from sleep but also from the darkness.
A bouquet of roses was delivered to me in my sleep, and it was 2:30am when intensity began to bud, release its sweet smell and awaken me. Instinctively my hands moved from my pillow to my thigh then slowly up to my breast where I’d stopped to caress myself, my nipples hardening before even opening my eyes yet opening them made no difference because the room was pitch black. I wondered if one or both of us was in heat before closing my eyes again to imagine my hands were his.
Traveling afar with intent to unfurl the twisted, tattered and retired flags of time he is mired in lotus muck that awakens us both and growing like wildfire we float upon hemlock seas protected in the glow of sunbeam orations to become what mankind stops to smell, to be reminded of Love.
Nothing is happening anywhere else in the world because at 2:30am I’m bathed in a scent crafted from the virtues of the master’s peace talisman and when I stare into the pitch-black day it is intensity that breathes into my heart to remind me of the heavenly stars we have only in dreams tasted.