Let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone.
The door closes behind the prodigal son of my immediate 'family', and then it's just you and me in the silence. Immediately I start fiddling with the pen lying next to my hand on the desk. It slips in my grasp and clatters to the oak surface, making me fight down a wince.
"Are you there?"
I look up to see you looking at me. Nod tensely. I have absolutely no idea what to say. You step behind me, hands landing warmly on my shoulders. My eyes are fixed rigidly on the sheet of paper in front of me. Numbers upon numbers upon numbers.
"Yes, I am."
I am. I really am. For the first time in God only knows how long, I am here. Fully and truly, not slipping away from everything or feeling out of touch. And it hurts.
Your hands slip slowly from me, with all the inevitability of a natural disaster. I close my eyes as the warmth recedes, until only your fingertips are still resting lightly on my shoulders. Such a touch is best described as transparent, like gauze, barely there at all. Yet I feel it so keenly through two layers of clothing. When at last it disappears completely, it feels like being naked in a cold room. If only we weren't in the office. I'd like to wrap up in something. It's so chilly in here. The stillness of the air has all the cheer of a sterile surgical instrument, and I want to break it, stir it up. Of course I cannot. So I keep still as a statue, my breath moving a few locks of hair hanging down into my face. I never even notice that you've moved until you're in front of me, forcing my chin up. Your eyes completely clear. Probably clearer than mine.
"You're freezing."
Well, there's no arguing with that. I am freezing, inside and out.
"Bedroom, now."
I wonder whether you can't read my mind after all.
Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon.
The way to the bedroom is silent. You tried to carry me bridal style at first. I argued. You kissed me and put me down. Always I am the one to ruin the moment. Not this time.
Beneath you I never feel trapped. It's a strange thing, that.
Show me slowly what I only know the limits of.
You start gently. I had hoped you would. Contrary to popular belief, I don't appreciate being neither ravished nor ravaged. I ended up letting you carry me across the threshold. You didn't throw me down or even drop me. You let me down gently. Wait, doesn't that mean something else? No matter. What matters is the here, the now. The way your lips part softly when you smile. The feel of your hands, the warmth of your body against mine. If I could find something to say, I would never stop talking. But I don't. All I can do is think at you as hard as I can and hope against hope that you will understand. Don't leave. Stay.
And dance me to the end of love.