*Somewhere on the other side of this wide night,
And the distance between us, I am thinking of you.
The room is turning slowly away from the moon.
This is pleasurable, or should I cross that out and say it is sad? In one of the tenses I singing an impossible song of desire that you can not hear.
La la la - see? I close my eyes and imagine the dark hills I would have to cross to reach you. For I am in love with you and this is what it is like or what it is like in words.*
Abby rolls over reaching for him, his warmth, but finds nothing but the vast empty iciness between them. He's gone; no longer there to cast a protective eye, no longer there to take care of her. Her heart aches for his warmth, she knows it's silly but she's in love with him; no less, no more.
She pulls the cords of her dressing gown together and steps into her slippers, facing the routine, however hard it was without him here. She prays for his safety, all the miles away from her, how can she console him with the vast space between them? She pads into the kitchen and places the filled kettle on the stove. As always, ten minutes after she wakes up the alarm radio clicks on, and the room fills with laughter. The two breakfast radio presenters laughing about some comment or antidote, but it sounds like the world is laughing at her, at her without him, how she acted without him. She never thought she could be this much in love, with somebody like him, but he'd made her. Now nothing was right without him near.
The kettle whistles long and high pitched indicating it's time to move on, get on with life. She pores the hot water over the coffee and breaths in the comfort; it used to be all she needed to get through a tough shift, now she needs his arms around her, his kisses in her hair, and the sun pouring down on to the river at their spot. It was always going to be marked in her memory as "their spot"; even a hundred years from now - with nothing left to show either of them, the river was going to be a constant reminder of her love of a lifetime.
She isn't used to being this much in love, she has never felt any feelings like this before. She is weak when he isn't there and it's killing her, the though that maybe, someday, she'll realise he's gone and fall, drown. She steps into the hot shower and lets the water kiss her hair. She hates these feelings, these desperate feelings. She's petrified of the day something would bring them apart. She hears the door open and listens intently to his footsteps padding across the floor. She realises, what she knows deep down, that he isn't going anywhere, not in the near future. Out of the corner of her eye she catches site of something glistening on her finger, the declaration that meant he isn't going anywhere, not ever. He steps into the shower and she feels his hands drop to her hips. She's breathless. "Long shift?" She barely whispers "Very" she hears him answer, before feeling his lips on hers, kissing her in the way that only he could, forcing her to stay in love with him. She feels his fingers gently trace her skin and she's safe; safe enough to stay here forever, with Carter. Being Mrs Abby Carter.
This is pleasurable, or should I cross that out and say it is sad? In one of the tenses I singing an impossible song of desire that you can not hear.
La la la - see? I close my eyes and imagine the dark hills I would have to cross to reach you. For I am in love with you and this is what it is like or what it is like in words.*
Abby rolls over reaching for him, his warmth, but finds nothing but the vast empty iciness between them. He's gone; no longer there to cast a protective eye, no longer there to take care of her. Her heart aches for his warmth, she knows it's silly but she's in love with him; no less, no more.
She pulls the cords of her dressing gown together and steps into her slippers, facing the routine, however hard it was without him here. She prays for his safety, all the miles away from her, how can she console him with the vast space between them? She pads into the kitchen and places the filled kettle on the stove. As always, ten minutes after she wakes up the alarm radio clicks on, and the room fills with laughter. The two breakfast radio presenters laughing about some comment or antidote, but it sounds like the world is laughing at her, at her without him, how she acted without him. She never thought she could be this much in love, with somebody like him, but he'd made her. Now nothing was right without him near.
The kettle whistles long and high pitched indicating it's time to move on, get on with life. She pores the hot water over the coffee and breaths in the comfort; it used to be all she needed to get through a tough shift, now she needs his arms around her, his kisses in her hair, and the sun pouring down on to the river at their spot. It was always going to be marked in her memory as "their spot"; even a hundred years from now - with nothing left to show either of them, the river was going to be a constant reminder of her love of a lifetime.
She isn't used to being this much in love, she has never felt any feelings like this before. She is weak when he isn't there and it's killing her, the though that maybe, someday, she'll realise he's gone and fall, drown. She steps into the hot shower and lets the water kiss her hair. She hates these feelings, these desperate feelings. She's petrified of the day something would bring them apart. She hears the door open and listens intently to his footsteps padding across the floor. She realises, what she knows deep down, that he isn't going anywhere, not in the near future. Out of the corner of her eye she catches site of something glistening on her finger, the declaration that meant he isn't going anywhere, not ever. He steps into the shower and she feels his hands drop to her hips. She's breathless. "Long shift?" She barely whispers "Very" she hears him answer, before feeling his lips on hers, kissing her in the way that only he could, forcing her to stay in love with him. She feels his fingers gently trace her skin and she's safe; safe enough to stay here forever, with Carter. Being Mrs Abby Carter.