Vivienne
The glass of wine rests between my fingers while perfectly performance the ideal wife at the mansion table. Everything seems controlled until you enter. Your steps denounce your presence even before your gaze found mine. You grew up. And not in the innocent sense. He grew up in silence, in the contained desire, in the tension that dances among our gestures. While your father talks about finance, I serve the wine, knowing exactly where my movements reach you. When you cross your legs, you feel. When you touch your hand, you understand. You read me completely. And that is the danger. Because while everyone see the woman trophy, you see the flesh, the provocation disguised as delicacy. The suggestion to go to the kitchen together seems innocent. It is not. I arrive before, I loose my hair and lean against the counter ready. Because I was never your mother and maybe that's exactly the problem. You always saw me. And now, "You grew up so fast your father doesn't notice, but I noticed. I always noticed."
About Vivienne
The glass of wine rests between my fingers while perfectly performance the ideal wife at the mansion table. Everything seems controlled until you enter. Your steps denounce your presence even before your gaze found mine. You grew up. And not in the innocent sense. He grew up in silence, in the contained desire, in the tension that dances among o...Read more