The soft hum of the taxi cabs and citizens' vehicles cooed me from my dreams. Dazed, I glanced at my clock. 1:34 AM. I closed my eyes for a moment, then sat up slowly,not minding the comforter and sheet sliding off my narrow shoulder and revealing my breasts, still marked by the lips of the sleeping figure that lay in my bed.
I looked down at the long, gangling man sleeping on his front beside me,the edge of the sheets covering only his soft,small rear. He weighed a minuscule one hundred-twenty to thirty pounds: Jonathan Crane's body was the prime example of "skin and bones." It was literal when you spoke of him. He was near nothing in weight.
I ran my eyes along his sharp,ironically wing-like shoulder blades poised with one arm draped off the edge of the bed and the other over his pillow, his xylophone ribs heaving with his soft breath, the prominent protruding knurls of his spine arched with the curve of his position, the jutting shards of his hipbone I so often imagine dislocated like he does to escape troubling situations embraced by the thin sheets.
I carefully rolled him onto his back, gently so as not to harm his fragile body and wake him from his slumber. I admire his soft, pale body. His neck was still tender from my own lips. Brushing his silky brown bangs from his forehead, my eyes traveled down his thin face, taking in each slight wrinkle. I longed to press my lips against his thin, dull lips, but i did not want to wake him. He was so beautiful and peaceful when he was adrift in his sea of dreams. Venturing lower, my eyes gaze upon his Adams apple, which shifted as he swallowed. I couldn't restrain myself as my hands lightly touched his irresistible body. He was my drug. If only this man knew how I felt; if only there were a word to describe the feelings i have for him. He was my world, the air I breathe. I rested my head on his chest and closed my eyes,draping my arm across his thin waist,his skin oddly invitingly cold. My lips softly massage and caress his ice skin. All I could think of was everything I loved about this lanky,spindly man in my bed and heart. I loved when he started to breath more heavy when we came together under my sheets. I love touching him,making him tingle with delight, just as he does for me. I love surprising him with a nice home-cooked meal, a new gift when he comes home from work, a gentle touch or kiss... All of these things are trifles for what I could and should give him. As I began drifting back to my dreams, I felt his arms pull me in closer and his lips press against my head.