...no word was spoken...

...we lay in your bed.  The rain came from low clouds, just outside those white-panes.  A quiet Saturday afternoon.  Other than a car, its tires making a sound as it slicked across the road outside, came by only twice in that few hours.

We said little; in fact, I can't remember saying anything at all.  We knew it wasn't going to last.  If anything were said, it would only belittle the feelings that were on the horizon, marked out in days.  The deepening thrum of what we never said to one another was there.  We didn't need to say a word.  The air was charged with it.

I lay on one side, you on the other.  At least one of our legs touched the floor.  We made no motion to each other.  We just wanted to be here, wordlessly in the grey light.

I put my left arm up, extending my fingers lethargically.  You did the same with your right, the backs of our hands playing.  The softness of that hand lightened me, gave me courage where I believed I needed none.  Our hands together, there, suspended against the canopy.  I could see your face, without even looking.  Your lips slightly separated like you do when you want to say something, but I know you'll say nothing.  Your eyes widen a bit in these moments.  They've pierced my memory and clearly outlined like the shadowed leaves of a tree against a twilight sky.  You hardly blink in this state (I mention it because I can't do the same).

Men are selfish creatures.  I don't want to think I want this: but I need this.  I feel as those that were led down a plank.  He would look between his bare feet (you would assume they took all personal effects) down at the black water, blacker than the sky, and that certain chill when you know it is done would cool the sweat along his spine.  Life is short, truly.

You want to feel like we're the only two who feel this way, who ever felt this way.  No man will ever employ this depth of emotions for you (I lie).  The infinite reaches of the universe would see my love writ, even it attenuated, to a whisper.  But there - clear and complete in its simple message.  Every molecule seems precious right now.

Our hands slowly clasp and fall to our sides.  You nestle your face into my neck and I can feel that your on the verge of crying - the heat and moisture are unmistakable.  If this could last forever.

I want you to tell me it'll be ok.  You can't even look at me as I leave.  Certainly, it won't be ok, and, by the time I leave and head home like a sleepwalker, I know it'll never be the same again.