Hey

Not done yet...

The first time I realized what loneliness felt like, I sat in my office listening to the complete silence. It was late at night but I had no reason to sleep. After a deep sigh, I glared into the empty sheet of paper in front of me on the desk, just as my mind desperately started to search after the right word; the right rhyme. The white paper was scorching my eyes, while the empty lines were howling at me to write something - to write anything. The pen felt so heavy in my hand and I didn't know what to write. I carelessly tried to write down something, only to find out that the ink had almost fully dried out. The pen was empty, but it still felt heavy; just as heavy my heart was that night. I felt abandoned, let alone forgotten. Lonely.

With another deep sigh, I threw away the pen and watched it slowly roll over the desk, while I crossed my arms and frowned. Behind me I heard a muffled laughter followed by a sweet voice almost singing out the words "Writer's block, eh?" As I turned around; spinning in my office chair, I stumbled upon a tattooed and bronzed face with big eyes and a pouty mouth cracking up in a big smile. Before I could even start thinking about what to say, this beautiful human-being pulls out an old, lanky chair and sits down next to me. "Why are you here? It's so late." I succeed to say without mumbling. He swiftly glanced at me, scratched his head underneath his way-worn beanie and said calmly "The same reason you're here, boss. Writing lyrics." I could just barely restrain myself from laughing, as I looked down at the empty sheet of paper.

I felt tired. All the energy in my body just vanished, but in some weird way it was relaxing. I'm not sure if it was because the late hours finally caught up on me, or if it was because of his presence. I glanced over my shoulder, watching him all crouched up over his phone whiles his tattooed hands slid quickly across the screen. He almost immediately looked up, staring right into my eyes. I still looked at him and noticed that his mouth dropped open, but he hesitated to speak. I swiftly looked away, just to stare once again into the empty sheet of paper. “You okay, dawg?” He stuttered before clearing his throat. "Yeh, just tired." I mumbled quietly, not even looking up. A moment of painful silence passed and made it hard to breathe. I could feel him staring at me, but I just couldn't look him in the eye. Suddenly he spoke. "Come on Marsh, we both know that ain't true. What up?" I was so surprised with how straight-forward he was that I couldn't answer. I just stared at him with my mouth open but no matter how much I tried I just couldn't tell him. I couldn't open up to him and tell him about all the sleepless nights I've suffered and all the pain I live with every single moment of the day. About how terrifying life is and how each day that passes it just seems to get worse. About how my daughters keep growing up so fast and how the day that they all move out and live their own lives without me is coming closer and closer. About how many hours of my day I spend thinking about him and his eyes. The rap game is all about being though and to have no weaknesses. If you reveal one weak spot - boom. You're out.

I don't know how many minutes that passed before he gave up waiting for me to answer. He got up from the chair, which gave out a screeching sound as he walked out of sight. I looked down onto the empty sheet of paper, once again, feeling bad for not having the balls to tell him. For not ever knowing what to say. But then I felt pressure on each of my shoulders and how warm my back got. I quickly turned around to see him standing close to me, a bit crouched up with a big smile on his face. He started to move his hands across my shoulders, gently pressing harder for every stroke. Someone touching me felt wonderful - him touching me felt like going platinum twice. As he pressed harder while moving his hands around my upper back, it got harder and harder to breathe. The feeling of his coarse hands caressing and massaging my shoulders were just too good to be true. I think he noticed how troublesome it got for me to breathe because he chuckled before he said: "I know you just had to loosen up some, mane. Let me take care of that for ya. Just relax, darn you're so god damn stiff."

The tension in my body slowly loosened up. Somehow I felt empty; not empty as in hollow but as in relieved. I've never been the type to sit down and take a deep breath - I prefer having the engine constantly running and thirsting for more. Maybe that's why he told me I was... Stiff. Out of nowhere, as his hands followed my shoulder bones, a longing for more started to sprout - I wanted to kiss him, feel his skin against mine. To have him near me. Sigh. I don't know how long I've felt this way about him; how I've been longing for him. I don't even know when it started, it just snuck upon me and caught me when least expected. I mean come on. Me? Seriously? Who would want a 40 year old rapper wearing Gucci and Lacoste? He's getting married. Engaged and all - he's in love. S**t, I feel like a f*****g teenage girl. But whenever he's around everything just seems to stop, all that matters is him. Everything just makes sense. All the thoughts in started to make me dizzy. While closing my eyes, I heard a little voice in my head; the same voice who made me overdose and do all the other drastic decisions I've ever done, like that time I jumped on a plane and went to California. "Go big or go home." the voice said. Shocked, I took a deep breath and held it. "This is it." I kept my breath held and span around in the office chair so that I could get up, facing him. He looked so surprised and as he took a few steps back I realized that I had never been so close to him, not ever. He smelled like opening an aged barrel of bourbon; sweet oak with hints of vanilla and smoke. His clothes were worn out, but still fit him perfectly. I have never seen anyone look that good in a tank top.

In silence we stood there, looking at each other. He was so close; right in my reach. I lift my hand up and slowly placed my trembling fingertips on his bare, tattooed shoulder. His skin was so soft... and warm. I forgot how to breathe, I grasped after air and he just looked at me. His eyes were glowing, but his mouth was closed shut. I could not tell what emotion his face portrayed; I didn't see what he was thinking about. I wanted to touch him so badly and for some reason I did it. I let my fingertips slowly wander down his arm, following the outlines of his tattoos. Two faces, one holding a gun. Michael Landon. John Wayne. A Jason mask. Kill my nightmare. Yela. As I reached his wrist, I could feel his hand moving. The muscles in his wrist tightened up, his hand was grasping after mine. As our fingers entwined I looked into his glowing light eyes; surprised by his response.

Reviews

[Megara]

love it:)

[Oscar]

great story i would like to read it when its done too. but i dont think you really need a ending its good like this too

[Akleja]

Thank you so much!

[Julia Brown]

Wow

[Kylie]

Too bad this is not done yet I would love to read the ending

[Akleja]

Thank you! I will make sure to notify you whenever it's done :)

[KurKota]

You have done a fine job of setting the scene, and by use of details, completed the whole picture, rollling into it... your emotions and thoughts. Good job of witing this piece.

[Akleja]

I can't thank you enough... But. Thank you!

[Wpww!!!]

I like it, the beginning was vey nice so was the ending though!

[Akleja]

Thank you so much!