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  • Writer's pictureNick International

Her, my love.

Carnations, a flower associated with love - that's the reason for the photo, I am not about to drop an RnB album, yet. I want to talk about her. Yes, her. My true love. She isn't with me now, but she will be with me tomorrow, and I can't wait to see her again.

Everybody has that one experience that they never forget, you may even have more than one - that’s okay too. For me, I remember every detail; the first time she touched my lips her kiss was so soft and charming like her bubbly personality.

That first night, she was dressed in a dark green french ensemble, accented with gold. Some sophisticated designer labels adorned her curvy slender frame. At first, I got the impression she was cold. Cold like diamonds. Cold like ice. The minute we got acquainted though, I knew I was going to always love her. We just clicked, instantly. It was like in the first 5 minutes of our interaction I was already floating in the stars.

We ended up growing up together. Sometimes, I think we had more of each other than necessary, but one thing remained certain - we were bonded, covalently. She was perfect for me and I would always cherish her. Still do. It’s a love that has only matured over time, and no matter how much time we spend together, there is an outpouring of magic. Our love is like gold. Sparkling gold, accompanied by flutes to add a melodic elegance to a love that is a product of patience, process and passion.

I truly came to love her when we kissed in Europe. This was the real exposure to her magic. This was where I learned to truly appreciate her. She was French, and at first, I was unsure about how to pronounce her regal sounding name, or where I read she was from. Her almost clear dress was adorned with floral and gold accoutrement. I just kind of awkwardly made an attempt at saying her name - riddled the thought around in my mind for a while - and failed but her bubbly laughter at my horrible French pronunciation really overflowed almost into my soul.

She touched my finger softly but almost not at all, I kissed the spot on my hand where she spilt, and knew this was a nectar never to be wasted. This is what love is, or where I started really flirting with a romance of perpetuity.

After Europe, I came to find she was mercurial though consistent. Sometimes she could be a bit dry, other times she was oh so sweet to me. I loved the way her cheeks got rosè; she was a rare vintage.

We'd play hide and seek around the world and where I found her, it was always like the first time. I remember a moment even in Nassau. That was such a special day. I can’t remember where I found her, but as per our usual game, I found her. She was dressed in yellow, a true Grand Dame. I couldn’t wait to get her home. When we finally got in, she just wanted to chill for a bit so I left her to cool out while I did a little work. It was long before she called out to me and it popped off. It was again, just as orgasmic, like a kaleidoscopic galaxy of stars all sparkling for me every time I tasted her. Can you guess what her name is, by the way?


What did you think I was talking about?

P.S. - See if you can pick out all the champagne references.

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