Apr 24, 2016

Quite late, almost early

She's sleeping next to me. I love her. Air, like warm waves, goes in and out of her chest, raising it lightly. Veins go across her hands like purple strings that split here and there under her transparent white skin.
I cover her cold feet with a blanket. Her head is sunk into a pillow looking for sleep with a smile. She's laughing in her sleep next to me. She giggles and kicks, it must be a fun dream. Her feet won't stay covered for long.
Dozing she takes me in her arms, kisses me on the neck and falls back to sleep. I peal myself away and get up softly, hoping she won't miss me. I don't know if she guessed my escape, but she took my pillow in her arms. I swipe a few rebel strands of hair from her face and watch her smiling at me from her slumber.
I go to the recently converted balcony/kitchen, open the curtain and look at the sky. There were stars on the heaven's wallpaper and before them clouds were walking in a snail's pace, minding their own business. I sit on the small balcony bench, pressing my back against the wall. I feel a bottle of wine behind the bench, using my fingertips I manage to take it out of hiding, I open it and let it breathe.
Insomnia must be a “she”, and “she” keeps me up at night. My old nocturnal friend hands me a glass of wine. I would like to read a book, see a movie, but I am not awake enough for that. All I can do is sit and lay between confused thoughts, do nothing except stall for time until morning, when I finally fall asleep.
At my second glass of wine my love appeared in the doorway.
“Did I hit you? Was I fidgety?”
“Yes, but you didn't wake me.”
“Can I sit with you?”
She wouldn't ask this if she was really awake. I smile and say yes. She sits in my arms and kisses me.
“Why are you awake then?”
I wish I had a good answer, I try making something up for her.
“It's a full moon outside, there's so much light.”
My love looks out the window.
“She's beautiful. You woke up to look at her.”
There's something about these night talks, they make me love her even more.
“I can't sleep without you,” she says. “If I don't feel you near me, I wake up.”
“Sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me, I just can't sleep.”
“If you can't sleep I can't sleep either, so we'll stay awake together.”
And saying that she yawned almost swallowing me hole. I love her.
“I love you,” I hummed.
She gave me a long kiss, she hugged me and sighed.
“I love you too. I'll make some coffee and stay awake with you ... don't look at me like that, I'm serious.”
She put the kettle on the stove and sat down, this time, opposite me. She was trying to find something, the certain “something” that was keeping me awake, maybe a piece of lint in my eye, maybe a tiny bell behind my ear. I kept silent and listened for the boiling water. I swear she fell asleep with her eyes open, staring at me. I gave her a nudge and told her the water was boiling. My love turned off the stove, filled the kettle to the brim with coffee and started lazily stirring one way and then the other. She put the kettle in front of me, and then she nestled in my arms.
“I'll let it cool,” she added.
Coffee fumes were coming at us like a charm from a witch's cauldron.
“I wanted to ask, what were you dreaming?”
“Can't remember much, I was a toddler and running after some geese. You're laughing? Well, what do you dream about?
I try to remember a fragment of a dream but when I turn my thoughts towards it the dream dissolves like salt in water.
“Maybe I'm dreaming of you,” I replied.
“Yes you're right, I'm dreamy. But you know, you're not that real either, sitting here in the dark, a shape without contours, and I don't know, there's something else … you seem softer. Your stubble usually feels like barbed-wire but now it's soft. I don't think I'll drink the coffee, I like being a bit dazed.”
“Leave it on the table, it smells good.”
“I'll just sleep here with you on the bench if you don't like the bed.”

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