His head rests on my shoulder and my eyes are wide awake, always capturing the world around me, always seeing and observing. I touch him, naked hands, and I trace every single pore of his skin, every single curve of his body, every dimple, and every freckle. I can read all his stories in the way his skin changes tone, in the way he hides his face from my scrutiny, as if he is afraid I will find something I won't like. I know him like the back of my hand, inside out, and there's nothing about him that would hold me back from reaching out and touching. I was never one to embrace, and yet, the way he fits beside me, is easy and natural. And I crave. I crave his smell, blended with cigarette, I crave his tongue playing with mine, warming my senses. I crave the way he runs his hands through my hair and my heart beats like a drum, and I can't stop it. I would, if I could; this needing is ridiculous, and I can't afford to care. And yet, here we are, intertwined, pretending this makes sense. I ask him sometimes, what does he make of it. He just shrugs. For him is enough to know we have each other, to extend a hand and see me following with no hesitation; to me, it's a riddle, an unsolved problem. And a weakness. He says love makes us stronger, but what strength is this that makes my chest ache at the thought of losing him? What strength is this that makes my methodical mind wander off so often towards him, the way he falls asleep and talks and touches me, on the most inappropriate of times? It is not strength, to be this vulnerable.
And yet, he looks at me and I wish I could put into words the way I feel, the way my brain processes this. He says it easily, but I find the words meaningless. I want to show him. And so I do. I like the way our shadows dance by the candlelight, our movements are rhythmic, like music. And we sigh together, and we lose balance, and even though we are so close, we hold on tighter, we don't let go.
I tell him stories and he listens. Then, as our shadows move again, we make history, and no one knows. And this yearning, this need I can't explain, is the only case I can't solve that, in all honesty, doesn't' bother me at all.