July 21, 2003
Morning
"It'd be nice if we could do this all morning."
We're both wearing one of his shirts, familiar cottons pressed like lips against eachother. His hands are cold and soft on my skin, his feather kisses on my cheeks painting over last night's more fervoured forebearers.
It's 9:35 a.m., and he is holding me before he must dash off to work, his freshly clad and washed figure curving over mine, which is still shrouded in sleep and sheets. I won't really get up for another two hours, woken by the phone, but I'll drift back off to sleep, and dream about him.
We cleaned up last night, hauling the garbage out front and hanging on eachother as we gazed back at his house. A quaint little place, the brightly lit windows almost expectant of our coming back inside. I wonder exactly how he must feel about it. It is a source of pride for him, I know, that he has acquired such a thing at his age; but also a grievance, a worry, for the little problems contained therein. I like to think of it as a home with potential, and too often of us within it, just us, with my candles on the windowsills and his in the bedroom.
My thoughts are folly, but I cannot stop the flood of them. Mine is a strange and silly love, like the flame of a candle that jumps and wanes and dances at the slightest provocation. It never withers, however, no matter how violent the breath upon it, reducing the once brilliant fire to a weak and simmering light. There is a heart within that cannot be quenched, that finds a beat to fix upon and does not relent. It has learned to live through another, and knows no life outside of that.
Mike's is a steady flame, burning atop a taper of stiff, navy wax. He does not take from himself to love, instead borrowing inconsistently from me, the catalyst of many shudderings and leapings on my part. He changes not, though occasionally the flame may glow green or blue, a metallic thread tasted within himself and burning bright and hot for a moment. Sometimes he burns for me, and sometimes for silence.
I will glow and stifle in accordance.
astera at 12:50 p.m.