My heart beat was rapid as I tried to fall asleep last night. I chased z’s like Peter Pan chasing his shadow but sleep evaded me. My heart was chasing a memory, a ghost of romance past.
While lying next to him my foot curled into a ballerina point-not for the sake of grace-but warmth and comfort. My little foot became the little spoon in the arch of his big foot spoon.
Sated by the warm comfort of the human touch, I relaxed a little. Still my mind drifted.
My memory was ablaze with the highlights of our first kiss. It’s been ages but the spark still lingers. It’s there..might take some uprooting…but it’s there.
We fell in love while talking, and I fell in love with the perfect crimson bows his mouth shaped in to, while talking. Every word spoken was an electric bridge dangling between our mouths, waiting to connect our lips in a much anticipated kiss. We were sparks, and the sum of our words were fireflies, waiting to be captured.
Life gets in the way and skirt sizes change, but there’s always that initial spark.
My hand landed on the warmest spot of his back as I finally succumbed to sleep. It’s a spot I know well. No fire burns brighter or warms my chilly hands like that particular spot on his back. I’m going to say unkind things to him in a week’s time, and he will return the favor. For now, there is warmth.