Before the World Starts to Talk
It’s morning. It’s that moment where I am not sure I am awake yet or if I will go back to sleep like this moment never happened. My eyes are still heavy. But there is a dim light that forces me to open my eyes, just out of curiosity to see what is out there, how is it like outside my dreams. Slowly, I start realizing I am indeed awake. I am still not ready to leave the bed, to move around, to speak, to get up. So, it suffices that I open my eyes. That is enough for now. It’s only the morning after all.
My eyes are open and they try to make sense of the world around. It’s no longer an infinite space of my imaginative dreams. Instead, it’s the morning in my bedroom. The first thing I see, and that my eyes make sense of when I wake up, is you. The dim light stops hurting my eyes and I can see you. I can see your face close to mine, so close I could almost touch my lips against yours. I see your arms around a pillow and your eyes resting peacefully. I see your legs stretched along the bed and they look heavily still.
The daylight is shy. The blinds only allow for a light beam to enter, a shy light beam. But it’s okay. My eyes no longer hurt and, really, a light beam is all I need. This shy light beam is bright enough for me to wake up and see you. It’s enough to make sense of you.
I am now wide awake. My mind can already think in a way that is not that nonsensical blabbering of when you have just opened your eyes. My mind had already time to capture and make sense of you. Of you being here. But you are still in your dreams. Your heavy breathing reassures me that you are still asleep. I wonder if you are dreaming. Or if you sensed some activity on the outer world of me waking up. No, you are probably in the depths of your head. Good, it’s still early. Too early for you, my love. You deserve to sleep, to rest. Stay in your dreams, with dead-weight legs, peaceful eyes and heavy breathing. Stay in this moment and let it be mine.
I see the invisible hair that covers your body. It shines against the sunlight. What is barely visible to the eye during the day, in this quiet morning becomes a golden field of my imagination. It is only because of that shy light beam. The lack of a clear vision allows me to see the hidden parts of your body. It makes me pay attention to your freckles, to the expression marks of your face, now so peacefully rested, and on the invisible golden hair. It’s like a secret between me and the sun. Our secret shared with this morning.
I touch you and your skin is soft. My hand slides through your naked shoulders to your cheeks. I feel the warmth of your skin. I couldn’t resist my love. And while I play around the marks of your body, the world is in silence. I trace a drawing covering the lines that make your face. I create a mosaic out of the secret details that this morning reveals. It’s just you, me and that light beam. Nothing else exists except the soft touch of your skin; and the loving touch of my hand; and the secret shiny hair; and us. And the silence; and this moment. Your feet touch mine. My hand stops their work; my art is coming to an end. With a slow sleepy caress, you give me the first sign: you are about to wake up.