Sprawled on the bed, your dusky skin smells of a scent that reminds me of one certain evening from my childhood, pink skies, the summer wind and vanilla ice cream.
My fingers gently reach to your skin, I hear your breath escaping your lips, making a raspy sound, eyes sealed shut.
My eyes wander on your bare body, strong and sturdy but somehow vulnerable and free.. delicate.
I let my fingertips feel your body, the little moles on your chest, the tiny scar on your stomach, I try to recollect the story of how you got it, for a brief moment.
I follow the veins on your arms like little children walking on empty train tracks.
I look at your sleeping face and linger my fingers on your lips, I wonder where all they have been, the bodies they have kissed, the people they have wanted, the faces they have chosen to touch.
Our tangled legs below seem like an unsolvable riddle, the future maybe. I try to move away but your heavy limbs trap me beneath them.
I like being captured under the heaviness of your presence, your reality. It is vastly different from mine, I like the uncertainty of where I could possibly fall, I always have.
I inch closer to sense your breath softly brush by my head and intertwine with my hair.
As your chest pumps up and down filling you with life my palm reaches to feel your heartbeat.
The melody of Je te laisserai des mots fills the room from the neighbouring house of a married couple in their late forties.
I feel you stir a little, eyes hinting to open at any moment, the soft light of the setting sun grazing your face.
You give out a sigh of content and open your eyes with a smile and shut them again.
I hum along with the music filling the air and wonder if this nakedness is all that fills us up,
where will this lead to?
will we be dancing to rhythms in our late forties or will we be passing by on the sidewalk as strangers, faintly recalling the physical imprints on each other’s skin?
I feel the warm bed under your body and suddenly I am cold with the realisation that in a few days, I will be humming a new chorus on my bed but with a different bundle of skin and bones, energy and soul, gaze and words lying in your place.
And I will be speculating about the precise similar things while the winter sunsets and my neighbours sway hand in hand.