One single moment

There was a time I honestly thought I would shatter into a million little pieces. A moment so sudden and unexpected that I didn’t see it coming, like crossing train tracks and not checking for oncoming trains, looking up and seeing the lights in my eyes just before impact, realising far too late that oblivion is upon me.

It was late at night and we were in bed. Our breathing had slowed and the intensity of our heartbeats, so fast and hard just before, quietened bit by bit. You lay behind me, my body folded into yours so perfectly, as though our two shapes were created with each other in mind.

After a while I know you thought I was asleep. I wasn’t. I was only pretending. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t stop my mind running around thinking about you. The curve of muscle between your neck and shoulder, the line your collar bones made that I loved to trace with my fingers, the way your skin always had a hint of tan despite it being winter and the insane softness of it – softer than a man’s skin should be, making me insecure about my own.

I don’t know why I pretended to sleep. It was as though I believed that if you thought I was asleep things would be different between us. It’s something I would do often, lie in bed and go through the motions of pretending to fall asleep next to you. I know you thought I was sleeping. It isn’t just that I’m an expert sleep-faker, it’s that I know you would never have done what you did, had you known I was awake.

We lay there entwined and you moved slightly, lifting yourself up a little. I didn’t move. You didn’t make a sound at first and I wondered what you were doing. I realised then that I could feel your eyes on me. You were watching me sleep. My breath caught in my throat and I had to focus on continuing to breathe deeply. Lightly your fingers touched my shoulder, ran up and down the side of my throat. So lightly I almost didn’t feel it at first. You stroked my skin so gently I was terrified you would feel how fast my heart was beating, thumping against the side of my neck. I was so frightened that you would feel it and stop touching me.

But you didn’t. You leaned forward and whispered “I think you’re gorgeous” and I could feel the words as well as hear them, they made little shapes in the air and collided with back of my neck, each one tingling more than the last, landing on my skin and resting there, slowly burning into the surface, leaving warmth behind like day old sunburn. Then you kissed me on the back of my neck and shoulder, so softly I thought I was dreaming and each kiss sent small shocks through my bloodstream, again and again and again.

I wanted to cry. I thought my heart would explode. I felt like at that point in time I wasn’t really there anymore, that I had shattered into a million pieces, like a mirror dropped from high in the air, tiny shards flickering and scattering the light, as though someone had opened a bottle of glitter and thrown it up into the air. I thought I would die right then. But I didn’t. You lay back down, kissed my neck one more time, and then I listened as you fell asleep. Your breathing became heavy and slow, your body twitching a little every now and then as you fell into deep sleep.

I lay there for a little while longer, calming myself, coming back into my own body and realising I was still there, in bed with you. The moment was gone, it became a memory so fast that it seemed as though it had never happened and I had dreamed the whole thing.

You never kissed me like that again. You never said words like that to me again. I have never felt like that since and I’m not sure if I ever will.

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