encoil

I walk up the hallway. Two cups of tea hot in my hands. The early morning chill causing little goose-bumps to rise on my naked skin. The whole place is quiet, not even the usual muffled sounds from outside can be heard. I turn in to the bedroom, and the sight before makes me catch my breath and stop. There you are. Laying on the bed, half covered in the sheet. The pale blue light streaming in through the window paints your body in a calm glow, little bits of dust dancing in the cool morning sunbeam that is caressing you. I lean against the door frame, taking in every detail of this one single moment that I can. You stir .. you must have sense

"Are you there?" I whisper from my bed In to the darkness With a half-wish for an answer I already know isn't there. The night has no ears to hear me No eyes to see me And no voice to reply with "Are you there?" "Are you there?"

... I'm trying to keep my breath long and deep, hiding the excitement and nerves. The tips of my fingers  gently touch the side of your breast, my mind still thinking, still trapped in the thought that my very touch, even my very presence this close to you, will cause you to reel away in physical pain, and emotional distress. I take a moment to glance at your face, in to your eyes, that meet mine at the same time, and I wish I could know what was going on behind them. What you were thinking, feeling. It's not as easy as some people say, to know another's mind, even at a time and situation like this. I trail my fingers around your breast,

It's still raining. I can hear it hitting my window, like cold liquid fingers drumming on the glass. I can hear cars outside splashing through the puddles. Pockets of cold air hang in my room, like breaths left behind by shadows and memories. I pull the blankets up over my legs, winding them around me as a feeble cocoon. Maybe tomorrow I'll emerge as something better. The miscreation you see, or read, will be gone, and replaced by something you deem far more acceptable and pleasing. Or maybe the world will have changed, to somewhere more understanding and accepting. A world where I can belong. Both thoughts are fantasy, of course. The type of