Weekend Memory

I wonder if you remember as clearly as I do the rich texture of the light on our bodies, so it seemed that we ourselves were glowing with life and love and certainty. Living only in those mere hours, minutes, our time was a stopwatch: a whole world and a single room all at once: a macrocosm within a microcosm among the twisted sheets and heat.

I wonder if you remember the sound of my voice, becoming a so very physical thing in the space between us, becoming matter. Real whispers instead of text in brackets, and the star in my eyes that was your face reassembled, and loved: oh, so very beloved in your beholder's gaze. Fingers lingering on skin that deserved a caress for every second.

I wonder if you felt a silent wish that I would come with you, ask you to stay, or suggest we run. I would run with you, if it meant that you would never stop loving me, and never feel the heavy, deepening ache for your now distant lover. If you would take it, I would make you a promise in my epitome; a promise to Love itself, to keep you safe in me.