Let me kiss your foot, he said, reaching out, into my space.
NO, I cried, unnecessarily loud, recoiling in my head at the sound.
Why not? he frowned, rubbing his forehead, dislodging minute dead cells.
It’s my foot, I don’t have to explain, I said, a little foolishly.
Don’t get that way, don’t get that way! he closed his eyes for a second.
No, I won’t get that way, forgive me. I tried to smile.
Why won’t you be naked in front of me? I love you, you know, he began.
I put a finger to my lips. Sshh.
Damn it.
I knew you would get angry.
I’m not.
Liar.
Silence appeared. Shifted around a little. Searched inside my mouth. Vanished.
I don’t like to be naked, you know that, I said.
Sometimes, I think, you’re nothing but, beneath your clothes, in your eyes.
I began to cry.
He held me.
The bed was soft beneath us. The sheets smelled like talcum.
I love you, he said again, hands finding my scar and stroking it.
I love you, he murmured, voice soothing, soft, palms slipping beneath my clothes, caressing my back.
My tears grew cold along my cheeks.
He was warm against me. I turned into him.
I love you, he whispered and sighed finality against my neck.
Ok, I said, sniffling, smelling his comfort. Ok, I know.
He drew me down to the sheets, covered us both, though the night was hot.
We looked into each other. I tried to look past him but couldn’t. I saw him.
Take off the lamp, I whispered.
I don’t want to lose you, he said, serious.
I’m right here.
He just stared.
I kissed his lips. They were warm.
He stretched over me and switched off the lamp.
Darkness. Impaling.
His breath and mine in the silence.
My hand crept out against his chest. Index finger on his lips. Palm on his cheek.
I felt my pulse throb in my head. He closed his eyes.
I hummed the theme song from Sesame Street.
Outside, beyond the thick, pale blue curtains, the moon was absolute and stunning.
I shifted further into him. The bed creaked. He kissed my eyes.
The sheets were like talcum.
/lisaallen
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