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August 10, 2010

A short piece I wrote nearly 3 years ago. It used to be called ‘Spoons’ but I prefer this title now.

Did it ever actually happen? That’s for me to know.

He stirred. Almost reluctant. At this stage there was nothing. Nothing to matter, nothing to intrude, no distraction. Just what his waking senses were telling him.

Almost imperceptibly he smiled. He could feel the arms of his lover around him. To him there was no better feeling in the world. A mix of that blissful, almost born again ignorance of waking, and the perfect trust that comes when you remember that you went to sleep with someone’s arms around you.

Again he stirs, ever so slightly. Differences in his limbs told him where they all were, and tiny thrills erupted in his stomach as he found legs intertwined with his, feet lying together and perfectly still, a chest rising and falling against his back, and arms… there was nothing better to him than arms around him, encircling, protecting.

His smile now becomes a real one, full and spontaneous, and something only felt, both on his face and inside him, from the centre of his chest that smile came, and as he breathed and it faded slightly the memory of it stayed with him, in his mind and in the muscles of his face.

His heart had fluttered when he smiled. It was one of those feelings that if you could paint it would be more beautiful than the most crimson sunset, and if heard, sweeter than the sweetest birdsong. Perhaps that’s why it was so special, this sort of beauty you could only sense inside you, and you could only get from being this close to someone. Impossible to feel, instead just known. More a certainty than a feeling, an absolute trust. And the second heartbeat, felt ever so slightly in the body lying with his, and through the arms that were around him, told him all he would ever want to know.

And then he smiled again, at the feeling of first one, then another, then a third of the most gentle kisses, softly placed on his neck.

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