Can’t decide if I’m the victim or the beast. Can’t decide if I’m the saviour or desirous of salvation. Pick a side, any side. I have one foot in both. Each of you, take a hand. My heart, a red ribbon. Now pull.
“And as I drift off to sleep
I can still feel my lips tingle
With the intoxication of our first kiss
The way that I was drifting off then
And you slowly tilted my face to yours
Years later… It still consumes me
The taste of our friendship becoming our first love together
And to this very moment I still feel it in my heart
That if you were to walk back into my life
I wouldn’t even hesitate to love you again.”
We tumbled through the night, alone and together, away from the outside world. He slept so silently I wondered if he were awake or dead. My body was a cold fire. No thought of tomorrow or a next time. I didn’t believe in his tomorrows. I’ve heard them before and as many times seen that fog burnt away by the inevitable and relentless rising of the sun.
No longer of youth and urgency, we are freed from the weight of a future of our own choosing. Now, beset by the already hardening forms of our desires as grown men and women, hemmed by the limits set upon by a life already halfway led, this love has become a love of moments. From one to the next, a smile, a touch, a thousand tender words, an old familiarity, a goodbye.