Charcoal, it’s so hot, I can’t break the gaze, it’s dark in here (or it is now – was it before?) but those umber spheres can see everything regardless; you can see every strand of my hair that’s out of place, every bead of sweat under my linen shirt, every crease in my tight jeans, and all I can see is those charcoal spheres and my beginning and my end. Wasn’t there music playing?
A shoulder collides with my reverie and the spell is broken. I look back up frantically, desperately, but you’re gone? What was this for? I am rooted to the spot, broken, alone, bereft, forlorn, paused –
A smoky brown arm reaches through and parts the fog of inertia like a lightning strike, at its end is a hand, a beautiful hand that unfurls its fingers with deliberation and furls them around a handful of my shirt. A fearsome hand. My eyes can’t look away from it and I slowly lift my arm and rest my hand atop yours – not to stop you but to show you I want this – and I look up and see those charcoal drops up close (it’s frightening) and your lashes briefly flutter (it’s mesmerizing) and I open my mouth but your other hand, the tender hand, silences me with one gentle finger on my lips (it’s electrifying) and I know I’ll never speak again unless you wish it. Your finger slowly retreats and the fearsome hand grips tighter as you pull me in, our bodies now pressed against one another, I want to pour myself into you, I feel close to melting – when did it get so hot – I can feel the beads of sweat on my chest multiplying making me so wet (for you). You smile just that tiny little bit – oh that fucking smile – and you stretch up just that tiny little bit and purse your lips just that tiny little bit and I lean down and that’s all there is; for that instant this is all there will ever be; our lips find each other (you taste of fire and power) and I am rooted to the spot, whole, together, overwhelmed, elated, present –
I know in that precise second that I am not meant to be alone.