Through glasses of a year passed

I find myself sprawled upon your bed, as if those months we purposedly let pass didn’t exist at all; is it too early still? It seems like nothing has changed, though I know it should be utterly different now. Why do you make me laugh just as hard as I used to, and why haven’t the electricity in your gaze faded even the slightest?

Feeling the warmth of your body next to me, and the softness of the bed sheets against my naked arms, I stretch my body across the bed in an attempt to shake my thoughts off of me. You’re so close, yet I know you’re further away from me than you’ve ever been. It doesn’t bother me, really: if it did, why would I have waited two months before seeing you again? After all, and even though it might seem strange, considering the feelings our relationship sprang from, you have become one of my closest friends lately. Then again, wouldn't that be the reason I waited?

Your breathing is steady, making me fall, fall, fall as that usual spell of drowsiness is cast upon us. Your bed becomes some kind of bubble, in which there seems to be no future and - more importantly - no past. The only things existing are you, me and your fingertips tickling my spine, and I turn my head to watch as the colour of the sheets starts changing into pink shades, like I’ve put on a pair of red glasses.

It sounds like love, but we both know it’s not. You’re in love with someone else, and I feel no desire to love at all.

However, I do feel blood pumping through my veins and if I concentrate enough, I can feel your heart thumping too. Your skin is hot against mine, even though we’re far more dressed than this bed usually allows us to be: the only proof that something actually did change. I don’t dare to speak, knowing that the words longing to cross my lips are better off unspoken. Is that why you’re not talking either? I search the silence for answers but find nothing but the sound of our hearts beating and air passing our mouths as we breathe.

Therefore, these stories that they tell: they must all be lies. Pounding hearts might not always equal Eternal Love. In fact, they might just be a result of two months spent apart.



(ett försök till engelska. feedback?)


Kommentarer
Postat av: Jenny

jättejättejättebra skrivet laura. du är så himla fin <3

2010-04-27 @ 22:35:35
URL: http://headman.blogg.se/
Postat av: Laura

jenny: tack! du gör mig glad<3

2010-04-28 @ 20:06:01
URL: http://pussetiv.blogg.se/adjektiv

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