About 350 words.
I waited long to receive this. I think it has been worth it.
As a sequel sent from a far and scary place....

Strangers Incompletion

FOUR YEARS ON, and another midnight passing of no consequence. And I can't be arsed to change the last record as it spins down to silence.

Now I realise how desperately I long for us to become lovers. For the simple passion to burn this night away, or for the memory to treasure for a long, long time? Perhaps both; yet not even that is necessary... but that we, still fully clothed, merely snuggle contentedly in the bowl our nest of intimate cushions has become... our foolish babble slowing... to fall at last to a wordless state of grace. The gentle warmth of her breath on my neck. The untroubled heartbeat of no excitement. My soft contentment as I realise she sleeps in perfect trust, untarnished and complete.

I will make no move to disturb. Though turn my head slightly, that a rolling teardrop does not fall like a night-rain upon her open face. We are as kittens of innocent repose. So hook duvet carefully with silvered silent toes, and cover us in quilted, feathery comfort. Slowly, slowly, not to awaken. Ah... she sighs deliciously, and wriggles closer. It brings out some protective instinct: gives me strength. The little strength I need to struggle on, to hope for a world a little less uncaring. For perhaps it's all ending now. The news of these last days has left me with a feeling of sick horror and deep forebodings.

I wonder, idly, if her slumber is a sham. But it doesn't matter; I am content within whatever fantasy she wishes upon me. Yet now is my own calm, centred in this night of a world gone mad. And a wry acceptance that the sweeter memories of this time will be the only keepsake that I could ask for.

Soon I too will sleep. Despite attempting to stave the inevitable, to savour our last moments of conscious communion, a world of dream awaits. Perhaps we can find a better realm to treasure there. She mumbles something inaudible. I make a little moue of my mouth, touch with fingertips and blow the kiss; not a hair trembles on the cherished forest of her scalp.

This could be our domain when the lights go off one final time. If I see the flash and the sky on fire I'll not awaken you to my hopeless, helpless fear.

Goodnight, my love.

Jenni ~ September 2001 ©

Twin Heaps

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