Turning in your drug dry sleep, I shift slowly to balance my laptop without waking you. Readjusted, I take a deep breath and gently lay my fingers on the keyboard. Barely touching it, the bottom is burning and the heat is radiating through the keys. The heat travels through my fingertips and I feel like I’m finally getting somewhere. I might just be able to fully convey my feelings this time.
I wonder what you’re dreaming about. You look so peaceful in your sleep. In fact, you look dead. Except I know you’re not because your shallow breaths make their way across the layers of bedding and my skin absorbs it naturally. Yes. Naturally, I’m in love with you.
Minutes have passed before I realize I’ve just been watching you. In times like these, I can’t tear my eyes away. I’m afraid that if I do, even if only for a second, when I look back you would have disappeared. My eyes know what my mind doesn’t. They know that if I don’t burn this image of you into my memory, you’ll disappear. It’s like this image of you is proof that you’re alive and that I’m by your side, but I can’t help doubting.
I decide to risk it. I quickly remove the laptop and place it on the drawer beside me. I look back, and to my relief you’re still there. For a moment my heart knew I lost you, but now my eyes have brought you back. I shift lying down next to you. Close to you. I want to be so much closer but I can’t. If I touch you, you’ll disappear. If I accept this beautiful dream for even a moment, the dream will be gone and so will you. I can’t lose you again.
I’m just inches away from you. My hand moves on its own and it floats above your head, down the side of your face, across your rising chest, over your left arm, and stops on your hand. Like the naive child I am, I almost give in but catch myself right at the crucial moment. Our hands don’t touch.
I fall asleep next to you and I dream that our hands touch. I move down and kiss the palm of your hand. There, I rest my cheek and feel the pulse in your wrist. You ask me to kiss it and I do. Obediently, willingly. I kiss you over and over hoping this moment will never end, but you gently push me away and shake your head.
I don’t understand. I turn emotional and I’m practically yelling at you now. I tell you it’s easy, I tell you how to stop. But you look at me with eyes that tell me it’s not that easy and that you can’t. And then you say it. You tell me you can’t stop. Not now at least.
You get dressed and I hear you walk out, the door closing behind you. I begin to cry.
—
Your hand cups my cheek and my eyes shoot open. You’re lying right in front of me filled with concern. My eyes can’t shut for a few seconds, and tears are flowing out of them. I panic. I ask you will you feel the same? Will my arms be flesh or will they be love? Will it be as before? You don’t know. I’m frantic. Will you still remember me well? I scream at you and you try to calm me down. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. You hold down my arms and all I can do is cry. I cry for you, for me. I cry hoping you’ll stay and asking if things can return to the way they were. I’m pleading with you, asking you, begging you. But both you and I know the answer and both you and I say nothing.
Don’t leave me.
Don’t leave me like I left you.
© estalement 2007
