She lay on her side looking at the helix as it hung from the ceiling, twirling colors causing an onset of hypnosis of some sort. Clenched between her teeth was, a red fountain pen, its black ink drying at the steel nib; while she held onto a jacquard turquoise cushion. Yes, she had gotten used to keeping her arms around something.
As the space bathed in dim yellow light from what seemed like stars hanging; she thought of the time when they were together, entwined in each other as they lay under the virgin stars and she wished she could take away a fistful of those twinkling marvels and keep them safe as the token of that beautiful night. Little did she know, couple of years from then or anytime later, whatever that would resemble stars, or just lying down under the sky or just anything random would suffice to bring back all those moments to life, so much so that she could feel the chill of the wind, and the warmth of his heart pounding against hers.
She wore a blue t-shirt with a white and navy blue striped shorts, which snugly clung to her derriere, and showed a little bit of the cheeks. As she wore them, she couldn’t help but look for however faint it may be, the scent. The scent of him. The scent of his sweat, the smell of the perfume he wore and the cigarette he couldn’t resist but smoke. Needless to say, anything and everything led her back to him.
She was filled with him in thoughts. She missed him. She missed his voice calling her names, whispering sweet nothings, teaching her the ways of the world, talking about life, art and beauty and most of all, when he voiced his love for her. She missed his warm breath near her neck, before it mingled with hers and she missed his hand approach her and the heaven like touch of his entirety against herself. She missed the tender moment when all their senses would cease to know but each other and when she would be filled with him, in body and breath.
She also remembered how amused she was as she lay next to him and inferred he smelt like her, of Indian Night Jasmine. Surely, their bodies had rubbed much against each other’s. Nevertheless, months of agony had to be made up for, agony of the months that had just gone by, and the ones yet to come. (The ones just gone by were the worst they saw, and ever shall; and the ones yet to come were merely to be flustered by the great distances of continents separated by giant seas and expanses of land.)
And what should make up for such immeasurable agony if not ecstasy? Ecstasy of singularity, of that certain completeness of humankind, and of that unique oneness of the sum of two, that the joy overflows the brim of two souls.
Ecstasy is what overflows the brim of two souls, at the materialization of that unique oneness of the sum of two.
They had exhibited some incredible understanding and patience in years of their afar-togetherness. Yes, that’s the irony. Together they embarked on a journey for life, far from each other basking in hope of meeting at a crossroad, only getting a glimpse of each other through interstices and being content.
He would do anything to keep her close lest he would lose himself to trivialities of life. To lose her would be to lose his purpose in life, to lose himself. She inhabited his dreams, his thoughts. He understood love in terms of her and she was embedded deep beneath his skin into his soul.
This time their aching hearts appeared over their flesh, painfully pouring out and they drank from each other’s cup, smiling and crying together. The universe looked down upon them, smiled and shed its tears too. It rained. Finally.
Blessed may they remain, whispered the wind.