January [Written 2009]

She laid beside him for a moment, wondering if it was the wrong time to mention their future. She felt him shifting to be closer to her so she wrapped an arm around his torso and kissed his shoulder. She decided that, instead of trying to discuss the future with him, she would take advantage of the moment.

‘This may never happen again,’ she reminded herself, so she paid attention to every detail. She traced the contours of his body with her fingertips, took in the scent of the room, of his skin, she watched the flickering flame from a candle sitting on the nightstand. She kissed the base of his neck again, then his collarbone.

He groaned, then playfully asked, “What are you thinking?”

She stayed silent, not wanting to express what was truly on her mind. It's easier to want and be wanted by someone. Love is too complicated, so she didn't bring it up. His body was warm, she wanted to remember that. She laid her head on his chest, her hands resting on the smooth texture of his skin, then moving up to feel the contrasting texture of his chest hair. She moved so that their chests were touching. His beautiful brown eyes were closed again, so she focused on the dark color of his hair. She traced the lines on his face, they told a story she desperately wanted to learn. She wanted to explore every dark corner of his memory, but she was terrified to ask. She kissed the corner of his left eye, and then he opened them to see her stained-glass eyes looking into his brown depths. Here she was, in the most ideal situation with the most ideal man, fulfilling the dream that had been on her mind for some time now.

“What's on your mind?” He asked the altered version of the previous question that she was still terrified to answer.

‘I want you to love me,’ she thought. ‘I want you to trust and respect me,’ she inwardly screamed.

“Are you happy?” She asked to fill the silence.

He nodded and mumbled, “MmmHmm.”

Another phrase that may or may not have been sincere. She smiled her typical smile when her emotions overshadowed her reason. She kissed him to taste his lips, his tongue, and she savored every moment of it.

Eventually the time had come for him to drive her home. She opened her own doors, because she didn't want him to know just how dependent she was on him. When they stopped his vehicle where hers sat, she leaned over the console and kissed him slowly, hoping to portray her fear of it being the last time. When she pulled away, he looked at her with questioning eyes. Her message had been received. She was sure that her eyes implied love, her touch implied longing, and that was all that truly mattered. She wished him a safe drive home and hugged him good-bye before she entered her car. She watched him drive away, with all of her worries weighing on her, her heart sinking with the fear of never again feeling the way she felt when she was in his arms. She drove home and began counting the hours until she would hear from him next.