It had been blooming in her mind, in her heart. A small bloom that she was resisting, that she was trying to storm on. but this bloom was resilient more resilient then the storm and fury she was trying to create, trying to drum up. Everyone else could see it, this perfect bud blooming from the inside out each petal opening with glistening silk skin.
They had gone downtown together, the small bud held inside her as she stumbled down the cobblestone in copper heels, her head heavy from a day of fierce grape concoctions and baseball pants. Her eyes glossy, she tried to pick a place. Within the glass doors of the North Beach Restaurant he held her close, seeing glaring eyes. Kisses plagued her neck while they waited for a table. The bloom bloomed. They were a story, a tale in the making.
Back in the car they bumped along throughout the city to bad hip hop that they knew all the words to. While he held her hands, kissed fingers and the bloom bloomed. It was becoming too much and yet never enough.
He would fall asleep on her chest beer bottle in hand, to Penny cartoons saying he wasn’t sleeping just thinking with his eyes closed. This would be dreaming, sleep and dreaming and she didn’t mind that it was her heart keeping time in his dreams. This would be a night to remember and also a night that would be forgotten in coming weeks, coming months. But the bloom will continue to bloom until each petal has fallen and somewhere someone will be a beast, a monster, forever. Unless of course this beast, this monster finds true, real love.