He has the ability to level me with just one look. He has this way – across the room, his stormy eyes catching my gaze, no smile, no frown, just a look. His eyes lock with mine and there is nothing in the room but the two of us. God, it sounds like a romance novel but it’s true. There’s nothing but the air and the breath and the look. His haunted eyes. Wanting, needing, begging for something that I don’t think he can even define. Lost. I can’t look away and neither can he. We’re both lost in a moment that neither of us can define.
And I want to reach out to him, cradle his face in my hands, kiss his forehead and tell him it will all be all right, him and me, the world, the hurt, the pain, the life – it will all be okay if he will just let it be.
The breath stretches to an eternity and, occasionally, we each take a step, as we did last night, towards one and the other. The world shifts, accommodating that step, taking the breath with us as we move that one single step. His mouth opens just a bit, just enough to almost allow a sound out, one more breath out, then he chooses to close it, unable to let the word slip out with the breath. I’ve lost mine, waiting to hear the word, waiting to hear something, holding my breath, as he does as well.
Then he breathes out and the moment is lost. The world crowds in, the noise drowns out what he might have said, what he would have said, if he could have just held his breath with me for one single moment longer. But he breathes and he blinks and he tears his gaze away, looking back into reality, choosing to not get lost with me in that one indefinable moment.
And I don’t breathe out yet, hoping that he’ll catch his breath again and return to my eyes and maybe give me a syllable of what he holds in his eyes. But he turns and he is gone, not physically but emotionally, taking whatever words might have lingered, if he would have just let them escape. I watch his back move away, being swallowed up by those around, and I catch my breath, afraid to move, hoping he’ll turn around. But he doesn’t. And I breathe again, wishing to be breathless with his look again.
And, eventually, he does it again… and again… and again…
“I saw them standing there pretending to be just friends, when all the time in the world could not pry them apart.” - Brian Andreas, storypeople.com
3 comments:
You have such a knack for describing things in such a way, that I feel like I'm right there with you...and I actually have been in that situation before. Here's to hoping that he takes another breath, and finally tells you what you've been wanting to hear. :-)
I absolutely agree with twyla, your writing takes me right into the scenario, I can actually feel his contact as your presence fades from the scene to be filled with mine. And now he fills me with his presence. Very orgasmic (I really actually mean that)
Lorn
Wow!!
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