on
our silent night, we put our heads on a single pile of cotton pads
facing each other. i saw your eyelids closed and i felt peaceful, for
your hand leaned on my body, for your skin touched mine, and for
your breath roared through your snore.
i moved my hand that resulted you to wake up. "the night is still young, i just want to snooze" you said with a queer voice. "isn't night forever young for us?" i questioned you. then you opened your eyes and stared at me, deeply. "should the world know that nights were made only for the two of us?", you said with a sweet smile etched on your face and soft eyes that were trying to open. i looked deep into your eyes and smiled before i turned my body to the other side. you grabbed me tight and kissed my shoulder.
back to you, i closed my eyes. i felt the warmth of the pillow with your smell lingered on it. it brought me back to the first night when i opted to let myself share this pillow with you and lived the night with our talks, our jokes and our thoughts. without words, i traced your story and you probably traced mine; without you knowing it, i encountered plenty of facts about you and possibly vice versa. lies were just those things between fear; admiration was just the thing between disappointment; and longing was just that thing between lusts. ignore the negativity, i convinced myself that i made a right decision. you weren't sort of stranger i was afraid of. you weren't like those cowards who could dump me away with something left unsaid. i told myself that you were exceptional, again and again.
but then again, those things got me questioning.
"what if i am wrong? will there come a morning when i wake up with such self loathing for what i've been believing?" asking me at heart.
i turned to you sleeping beside me and I asked,
"what if one morning i wake up with hatred of you inside my heart, for making my pillow doesn't feel this warm anymore?"
but you did not reply, for you were deep in your slumber where the night was still bathed with morning dew and others were asleep with you.
i moved my hand that resulted you to wake up. "the night is still young, i just want to snooze" you said with a queer voice. "isn't night forever young for us?" i questioned you. then you opened your eyes and stared at me, deeply. "should the world know that nights were made only for the two of us?", you said with a sweet smile etched on your face and soft eyes that were trying to open. i looked deep into your eyes and smiled before i turned my body to the other side. you grabbed me tight and kissed my shoulder.
back to you, i closed my eyes. i felt the warmth of the pillow with your smell lingered on it. it brought me back to the first night when i opted to let myself share this pillow with you and lived the night with our talks, our jokes and our thoughts. without words, i traced your story and you probably traced mine; without you knowing it, i encountered plenty of facts about you and possibly vice versa. lies were just those things between fear; admiration was just the thing between disappointment; and longing was just that thing between lusts. ignore the negativity, i convinced myself that i made a right decision. you weren't sort of stranger i was afraid of. you weren't like those cowards who could dump me away with something left unsaid. i told myself that you were exceptional, again and again.
but then again, those things got me questioning.
"what if i am wrong? will there come a morning when i wake up with such self loathing for what i've been believing?" asking me at heart.
i turned to you sleeping beside me and I asked,
"what if one morning i wake up with hatred of you inside my heart, for making my pillow doesn't feel this warm anymore?"
but you did not reply, for you were deep in your slumber where the night was still bathed with morning dew and others were asleep with you.
Commonwealth, 22/03/2011 5:59 am, for a fiction when insomnia ravished me.
