It's 2 a.m. and I can still smell your sweat on my skin.
I can still hear your excitement in my ear.
My body remembers the way yours felt.
You're with me even when you're not.
I can't stop seeing my name on your lips.
My hair is still messed from your hands.
I can think of nothing else.
You laid beneath the stars with me on that fateful night 5 years ago. We didn't know each other well but that didn't matter because the silence between us was more than comfortable. It was welcoming and I knew that this night would be my happy place when the going got to be too much and I needed a reprieve. We were 18, laying on a blanket overcome with the end of our first year of college. We didn't know how to handle the amount of emotions we were feeling so we ditched our thoughts and aimed for a higher focus. The morning would come soon enough and we would have to make decisions we weren't old enough to make. We would say goodbye to the home we had made in the school dormitories and go home to our towns that we had outgrown. We would see each other again next year sure, but then could never be now and we didn't want that time to end. We could never go back to that cool, dark night spent under neath the twinkling stars, but I still think of it from time to time.
Complete and utter
silence accompanies the faint sound of the humming refrigerator making you feel
safe. Time could freeze and you would be fine. Stuck forever in this place of
safety. His arms are wrapped around you and his legs are tucked up around
yours. His knees are kissing the back of yours as if some divine being made
them for each other, puzzle pieces just waiting to be matched. His hot breath
is warming your neck and blowing on your hair ever so gently. It’s not strong
enough to tickle your head, just enough to remind you that he’s sleeping
peacefully. You think about what he’s dreaming about. You had talked about the
books you were both reading just before he fell asleep. You think back a few
hours when you were laying on the couch with his head in your lap, his book in
his hands. What was the title again? You can’t remember. It dealt with time
travel. That’s all you remember as you make a mental note to steal said book
when he’s finished with it. A door opens and closes downstairs. Your roommate’s
dog makes the stampede towards the back door. You imagine his black and white
speckled body rushing to the yard to relieve his nighttime pressure. You’re
brought back to your bed as he shifts in his sleep and his grip on you becomes
stronger. He’s living the action of his dream now. You lace your fingers
through his and welcome sleep.