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My mind clears as fast as the smoke from my pipe. I do not want to dream tonight. The dreams are getting more and more vivid and I refuse to look on her face for one more night.

I can't remember how this started; all I remember is sitting on the porch with him, sharing the excitement in the novelty of our indulgence. I remember that excitement dissolving like the snow he held to his face to thwart the foreign sickness. It's not dangerous, he had said, yet I stood there, holding my breath as he stumbled over the necessity to breathe.

Days later, my head lay in his lap as I stumbled over the same problem. My heart beat out of my chest, out of this universe, as I fell deeper and deeper into him; closer and closer to the most raw, most pure form of pain. But, though I felt it at the time, I did not understand the gravity that tugged on me that night and all the nights since.

Winter melted into spring, and summer brought forth a vitality that I never knew before and have not known since.

Night after night, the smoke settled, a carpet swirling around our ankles as we formed a ceiling of laughter. I would lean against him and a kiss would fall on my face, but it was not mine to keep. Still, I found his smile in my lips and my breath in his words.

Somewhere along the lines, fall was lost and winter's heavy snow has brought with it a stronger gravity. My scene is up and it's time to move aside for the star of the show. But watching this performance is what gives me nightmares. I wake before dawn and she is the image fading in my eyes. Who is she, that she has access to my most private existence? I ponder her role and my insides reject her mention. I look to him for answers, but he turns his face from me. When did the floor become so magnetic that even my knees cannot resist it? I grant it my hands, too, and soon it takes even the water from my afflicted eyes. I hear a whisper, so I push against gravity enough to raise my head. Before me booms a Great Voice, offering a hand against the gravity. I am grateful, but my spirit remains on the floor. The Great Voice comforts me and offers me a single word: love. But those four tiny, insignificant letters hold all the peace and all the answers I needed.

I love him.

Reviews

[Woody]

angela this is absolutely brilliant! you're so good with words. I like the introspection and the analysis.
super write.
one question, though. shouldn't you seperate his thoughts and her thoughts? different paragraphs.

[Angela Hunter]

Thank you for the review! :)
The "her" that is being referred to is a different girl. Thanks for pointing that out though--I'll have to see if I can make it more obvious. :)

[Woody]

ok gotcha. they kind of merged but if you meant it that way, that's fine. and you're welcome :)