by Marcia Middleton

Created on: March 12, 2010

            A Long Lost Memory Relived

Do you know, my sweet angel, how irrevocably I am in love with you? How my heart slams in my chest when you lightly trace you fingers along my sun-starved, sensitive skin. Your face is striking in the half revealing mechanical lights blinking in this midnight hour.

I know not why I wake, unless it is unwittingly to adore the handsomeness of your features immobilized by sleep. Lush lips, inky black lashes completing your angel’s face. I sight heavily with the weight of both longing and contentment, for you are mine and I want to feel the heat of your desire one more time before I must greet the sun of a new depressing day.

Tracing your tattoo with an idle thumb, I lay wondering if you know the ferocity of my passion for you until you shift restlessly, murmuring unintelligible words from your mystery dream. The curve of your body so lately revealed by your shifting catches my appraising eye, causing it to slip from your rounded shoulder to the slight widening of ribcage and finally on to the strangely erotic flaring of your hipbone and it takes a tremendous force of will not to lower my head and trace all of your body lines with wandering lips and hands.

I resist cupping the enticing bump barely covered by the soft blanket almost the same shade as your remarkable baby blue eyes. God, how I get lost in your eyes at the most inappropriate times.

Twining my legs around your long muscular calves and looping my arm through the space between your body and right bicep, I contentedly conclude the silent night time worship of your body and move on to contemplate all the other wonders of you…the suddenness of your booming laugh when something strikes you as funny or the slight uplift of one corner of your perfectly bowed mouth. I revel in both of these; your happiness is one and the same with mine.

Silently I wonder at the irony of us, opposites in the physical and nearly identical of heart, with one exception. You love with the freedom born of confidence and trust; I love with the jealous protection of a mother shielding her newborn from danger as it utters its very first cry. Different manners, same strength. Indeed, strength would be your describing name if I could bestow but one. You are the lightness of my ever dimming soul, the highlight of my days without number. It is this I think on disjointedly, almost incoherent, standing on the blurry edge of reality as I too lapse into dream, my body hardly distinguishable from yours. This is my place in life.

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