Sooooooo I wrote a short story.l

Wanna read it? Here it go!:
(***i welcome all feed back**)

My eyes dart open, suddenly uneasy in the slumbering peace of the new place. My body acutely aware of the slouching of the air mattress below us. as we lay side by side, I steal a peek at my past. The years we slept beside our children on this air beds ancestor. Same queen size, inflated it’s maximum fullness. That was the only time it felt like a bed. Back when the memories of a real mattress, were still imprinted on my formerly pregnant body. I envied my newborn daughter, Niyati, as she laid in the freedom of her own crib. Her older brother created mazes of comforter and bed sheets beside us. We’d lay like grilled cheese against the long mahogany table of nana’s living room. Every night, without fail, he’d fall a sleep first. Before turning off the television, I would steal a glance at his sleeping face. Bask in the solace it displayed as the fading light danced across his smiling mouth. I’d wonder if he dreamed of me before plunging us into darkness. Tonight, sleeping a foot away, stealing a glance at his slumbering solace, I knew better then to think of wondering. I knew I was the furthest thing from his mind; even unconsciously.

Retreating back to my own mind, I search blindly for my cozy socks. Years spent with project heat and carpeted floors, my body forgot how cold hardwood can get. Finding my socks, I let the white walls lead me one door done to the bathroom. Relieving myself, my body registers the decreased temperature and responds with haste. Two steps later, I’m back in the room completing the nightly ritual of re-inflation.

Back in my burrito bundle of 2 comforters, borrowed from our past; they meld to my familiar skin. Slowly The warmth begins returning to my legs, creeping up my thighs. I wrap myself tighter pulling up the dangling side sheet under my behind. The required half turn brings me back to the slumbering solace of my past. His familiar faint scent of death and nicotine lingers around my nostrils. Tempts me to steal another glance of the past; seemingly asleep, his breath is light and even; almost still. Barely noticed if not for my studying of what once was. Satisfied it will never be again, I borrow back into my burrito blanket, turning my back to my past.

And then I feel it. Feel him. His energy. Heat rushes through my torso spreading as wings, through my ribs down to my exposed lower buttock. It dances on my upper thigh, reverberating a light throb inward.
“I can feel you, you know” I throw out the words with a hand in disbelief of what my body just experienced. I find him, where I left him, two feet away, his skeletal hip smooth and exposed under his side of the comforters. My hand probes further down his thigh to the brim of his long johns and boxers. He’s growing.
“I was gonna ask you if you wanted some head first” he replies. Smart ass know-it-all that he is, his smirk glows with a lost passion. I chuckle to myself, nodding my head coyly, allow myself to succumb to the living memory; I roll fully on to my back & stare up at him. I see his smile in the dark growing until it hovers over my lips and kisses me. Boom. Connection. The routine. For one moment, I believe the lie I used to tell myself. I loose my body to his grasp and slowly transform into liquid.
Song lyrics jingle through my mind to the symphony he conducts with his tongue.
tell me a secret
tell me a story
tell me anything
to keep my love

And then it’s over, I’m cleaning myself off in the bathroom when the guilt sets in. Splash cold water on my face to calm the anxiety. And I catch her. Eyes of my past staring back at me, finally happy to have lived one moment of her dreams. Even if it was fake, she is satisfied; ready to leave. I feel my body expel the broken pieces of her heart. I am freed.

A moment later I am alone again. Staring back at the godis’ eyes. My stare searches a mosaic of a woman. Her truths complexity is beautiful. I sometimes think the last place she’d want to be is alone, yet her gaze exudes her love of the freedom. She tells me “the threat of losing someone is what makes us keep them close; cling to them like tree sap. Except it doesn’t work. The truth is” she continues “that if you set something free and it never comes back, you were under an illusion, thinking that it was yours to begin with”

Back in the still of the bed, I accept this as the most accurate description of my life, former marriage and current partnership. He was never mine. Not ever. Not as I carried half of him in side me, manifesting his legacy. Not when we repeated vows for no others ears but ours. Not in the gratitude his eyes would speak when his body was too weak to form words on his lips.He was never mine. </em>
And now after a session in his new beginning, his lips confirm the accuracy of my acceptance.

Again, I am freed. Washed over in what my brain can only describe as relief emanating throughout my body. From what, I do not begin to imagine anymore. I have imagined enough for this lifetime. I can no longer consider the past as I have come to know it in my mind. That is not this. That was an illusion, a fantasy dreamed up by a broken heart that only knew broken love. This is reality, where my heart is whole and healed. It used to think a partner should/would complete us. It now knows we complete ourselves saw e continue to grow. So eager for what it wanted, my heart had never considered the family having dreamers constitution would create. No castle is sound when built on quicksand.
Love!?! HA!!!!
People as broken as us should know better then to try to love each other. At least not in the way I had dared to dream it was in the beginnings of our life together. Time. Present. History… All show me, have taught me, i stuffed the deck; it was never in the cards.
There is no doubt I will be happy. I will love others. I will be loved. I will grow and prosper. I will laugh and enjoy each day as if it was my last. But to fall freely & willingly into a love without restraint, nor conditions is no longer on the table. My stamina for that type of love is shot.
Mayhaps, when I am older and less concerned with giving myself away; if he ever recognizes me as a woman deserving of unyeilded, no hold barred, over the moon, ET phone home, fierce revolutionary type of love; I will consider returning to the illusion that he could be mine and I his. Until then, the past remains peacefully settled behind me. I am fully warmed, and finally getting to sleep.


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