The Moment
Untitled
Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.
She watched his chest move like that for what felt like years. With every breath, her ivory hand cupped in his rose, and fell again upon exhalation. The rhythm of his breathing fit perfectly with everything about the night, with the emerging stars, the evening dew droplets on the grass and each wrinkle in the blanket beneath their intertwined bodies.
It was the time of year that summer nights began to lose their warmth, and autumn began to tip toe in from the cracks in the sidewalk where it always hides. The leaves on the trees looked tired, and before long the green would subside to passionate shades of gold and auburn. This was the time of year made for gazing at stars, made for infatuation and romance.
Nestled in his shoulder, she gently grasped the collar of his shirt in her hand. However artificial, she craved the attachment, and the comfort of knowing that if he moved, her heart and soul would go with him to the ends of the world. How odd it was, she thought, to be surrounded by the endless beauty of nature, and only want to close your eyes and melt into another person.
He was barely awake, lulled to sleep by the song of all the nighttime crickets serenading their own lovers through the grass blades. Shunning every yawn, he kept his arm curved delicately around her back, holding her close with a protective embrace. He had to hold her; had to feel the heat of her skin, smell the pomegranate of her perfume.
She leaned over him, bracing her torso against his chest. Ever so slowly, she lowered her face just above his cheek. Pulling her smile inwards, she grazed his cheek with her lips faintly, sliding downwards until her mouth danced right above his ear. And that was when she realized, there was no going back from here.
“I love you.”
She watched his chest move like that for what felt like years. With every breath, her ivory hand cupped in his rose, and fell again upon exhalation. The rhythm of his breathing fit perfectly with everything about the night, with the emerging stars, the evening dew droplets on the grass and each wrinkle in the blanket beneath their intertwined bodies.
It was the time of year that summer nights began to lose their warmth, and autumn began to tip toe in from the cracks in the sidewalk where it always hides. The leaves on the trees looked tired, and before long the green would subside to passionate shades of gold and auburn. This was the time of year made for gazing at stars, made for infatuation and romance.
Nestled in his shoulder, she gently grasped the collar of his shirt in her hand. However artificial, she craved the attachment, and the comfort of knowing that if he moved, her heart and soul would go with him to the ends of the world. How odd it was, she thought, to be surrounded by the endless beauty of nature, and only want to close your eyes and melt into another person.
He was barely awake, lulled to sleep by the song of all the nighttime crickets serenading their own lovers through the grass blades. Shunning every yawn, he kept his arm curved delicately around her back, holding her close with a protective embrace. He had to hold her; had to feel the heat of her skin, smell the pomegranate of her perfume.
She leaned over him, bracing her torso against his chest. Ever so slowly, she lowered her face just above his cheek. Pulling her smile inwards, she grazed his cheek with her lips faintly, sliding downwards until her mouth danced right above his ear. And that was when she realized, there was no going back from here.
“I love you.”
♠ ♠ ♠
I know this is on the mushy side, but it's hard not to be when you're writing about someone you're utterly in love with.