|I liked us this way. His arm was still thrown casually across my stomach, holding me down like the safety bar on a rollercoaster. My hand lay on the pillow, fingers almost brushing his shadowed cheek. The early morning sun, peeking through the blinds, caught our matching gold promises, shining on our hands.
A deep breath lifted his chest and whistled out his slightly opened mouth. As his chest rose, mine fell. One hand tangled in my mass of curls, he possesses me even in his sleep.
I wanted to lean over and kiss the stubble growing on his cheek, to trace his jaw, to feel his skin. But I liked us this way.
My tearstains still streaked my cheeks, the only sign of strife. The telltale marks of fifteen years together. We cruised through the oh-so-carefully veiled comments of friends, and sideways glances of the elderly, and the strained smiles of concerned family. We joked our way through the disapproving frowns of strangers and the unflattering mutterings of uncomprehending people. We have jumped every hurdle with Olympic grace.
But some things time cannot change.
Cruel words hung in the air still, tied to our wrists like balloons for safe-keeping. Loud voices bounced energetically on the walls. The slamming door echoed through the halls, reverberating in my ears. The sound of squealing tires still ripped the air.
Only in sleep can we forget.
I know I should leave. But as the morning sun gently touches his lips, curved in contentment, I am paralyzed. Because I know that he likes us this way.
© Copyright 2007 Mackenzie Rose (UN: mackenzierose at Writing.Com).
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