It isn’t my fault, he said, that I fell in love with you. It was your beauty that made me stumble over your words. Your beauty that made my skin bolt to yours, that magnetic pulse of your lips, the electric charge sparking from your eyes. I can’t be blamed for it. It was your fault, all along.
The sheets held them buoyant like water, and the small bed crashed them together like waves against rocks. He held her wrists up by his chest as they both lay side by side, locked in each other's stares. From the half-shaded window, the bright winter light cut across the room and hit the two half-covered by the large quilt that spilled across their legs and down onto the floor. The cold made her whole body brush violently against his, craving the warmth that he held her from.
Her frustrated voice was barbed with tears as she spoke in ragged waves. These words mean nothing, she said.
Afloat in the wintry calm, the waves of sheets strewn among them, the two lovers fell apart, crashed together, drowned by meaningless words and were, again and again, saved by their tireless love and silent motions.
One morning, after sex, they lay in bed together, limbs over limbs, heartbeats amplified. With flushed cheeks she had pressed her nose into his cheek and said, if I am beautiful, it is because you make me so.
He turned to press his nose against hers; you are beautiful because the stars turn into diamonds at night. You are beautiful because the rain makes the flowers blossom and show their colours. He smiled and kissed her. Then he got up out of bed.
Twenty minutes later, while she still dosed in the mid-morning light, he had gathered his clothes into a small rolling suitcase.
You’re leaving. She had heard him come in and had seen the suitcase behind the door. Her lungs could not bring in air fast enough and, as she fled from the captive hold of the sheets, she feared she would hit the floor dead by the time she reached him.
He caught her by her shoulders and held her away from him. Come with me, he said. I’m leaving for good.
I can’t leave, she said. This is my home.
We’ll make a new home. We’ll sleep under a ceiling of stars.
She sat back on the bed, why do you have to leave?
He knelt beside her, I love you. Come with me.
She moved her lips close to his and whispered, I love you. Stay.
The light seeped in through the curtains and stained the two stubborn lovers.
The sheets held them buoyant like water, and the small bed crashed them together like waves against rocks. He held her wrists up by his chest as they both lay side by side, locked in each other's stares. From the half-shaded window, the bright winter light cut across the room and hit the two half-covered by the large quilt that spilled across their legs and down onto the floor. The cold made her whole body brush violently against his, craving the warmth that he held her from.
Her frustrated voice was barbed with tears as she spoke in ragged waves. These words mean nothing, she said.
Afloat in the wintry calm, the waves of sheets strewn among them, the two lovers fell apart, crashed together, drowned by meaningless words and were, again and again, saved by their tireless love and silent motions.
One morning, after sex, they lay in bed together, limbs over limbs, heartbeats amplified. With flushed cheeks she had pressed her nose into his cheek and said, if I am beautiful, it is because you make me so.
He turned to press his nose against hers; you are beautiful because the stars turn into diamonds at night. You are beautiful because the rain makes the flowers blossom and show their colours. He smiled and kissed her. Then he got up out of bed.
Twenty minutes later, while she still dosed in the mid-morning light, he had gathered his clothes into a small rolling suitcase.
You’re leaving. She had heard him come in and had seen the suitcase behind the door. Her lungs could not bring in air fast enough and, as she fled from the captive hold of the sheets, she feared she would hit the floor dead by the time she reached him.
He caught her by her shoulders and held her away from him. Come with me, he said. I’m leaving for good.
I can’t leave, she said. This is my home.
We’ll make a new home. We’ll sleep under a ceiling of stars.
She sat back on the bed, why do you have to leave?
He knelt beside her, I love you. Come with me.
She moved her lips close to his and whispered, I love you. Stay.
The light seeped in through the curtains and stained the two stubborn lovers.
posted by Stephanie at
6:26 PM
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