Insulation

Insulation

4 mins
21.8K


Her diamond zephyr shatters against my lips, reflecting breath back towards her temperate face in the middle of a perfect night. She wears a satisfied countenance, content with whichever sunny dream happens to contrast the starry nightfall this time. Exuberant seas of stars splash against the window left ajar, teasing, telling tales of twinkling eyes, now shut in serene sleep. Her vanilla breath merges with mine, confirming within me the crystallized fact of our intertwined lives. The bed, which would freeze over without her, blazes in a velvet fire outlasting both life and love. How could I sleep amidst this? How could I possibly miss the performance acted out by the stars and the planets and the universe, and everything else in between, to the sonata of her musical breathing? Why miss the thought of sitting together, on the bubbly shoulder of Orion, poking at a memorial effervescence that fizzes up between us? I cannot sleep. I can but look into her hidden, hazel eyes concealed from me behind closed eyelids, imagining them open, and think of our times together, and forget the times apart.

A fortifying breeze traverses the room, from the window’s starry dance, merging with her breath, blowing her hair in a miniature wind until it forms a halo around her angelic head, causing her thin, subconsciously bewildered brows to scrunch in a humble, divine confusion. Suddenly, my heart drops as she turns over, rustling in the sheets like the window curtains continuing to dance to her sonata. Unable to study her celestial visage any longer, I reach out to touch her stirring hair, which greets me with a silky, delicate ineffability, as I pull it towards my face. Her dark, heavenly hair sauntering over my hands and smile invites me elsewhere and, as a voyager exploring an exotic, yet strangely familiar, land that never ceases to amaze, I feel the unwrinkled skin of her shoulders mottled playfully with sporadic birthmarks, after moving more hair away with care exceeding that of a surgeon performing a cesarean section. This is not enough. It is one thing to feel, but, Lord, the eyes are the gateway to the soul, and so i must see once more!

Cautious to the point of preventing her waking, but not to the point of concealing my excitement, I maneuver over her body to see her once-shrouded features. As I lie on top, my body blending into hers, her face partly veiled under the blanket, I kiss her uniform, colorless cheek. Her naturally alluring scent invades my lungs, sending a pleasing chill down my spine. I would dream of the serendipitous syzygy of the stars, planets, felicity of twilight twinkling in her eyes, if only such dreaming would not take me away from her present perfection, from the solar radiance of luminous insulation trapping in our warmth!

With the blanket gradually pulling back, her tepid face slowly reveals itself, releasing a louder, sonorous breathing than before. She sparkles in her limelight, my lonely gaze, in pure perfection. Should God decide that he had made a mistake, that he should start over and create everything from scratch, He would immediately find satisfaction that He had created at least one perfection, one thing that He could hold on to while redesigning everything else, one thing after which to model His new universe. And that is her.

All of a sudden she stirs. Still half-asleep, she tosses and turns and gets up out of bed and leaves the room, her radiance dimming behind a closed door on her way out. She had not noticed that I was awake and, for fear that she would be dismayed at the thought of waking me, I act as though I am sleeping while I wait for her and, shivering, when she comes back in, greeted by the resonant reverberation of a flushing toilet.

She promptly falls back asleep and I whisper, “I love you,” and continue examining her contour and the shadow her body leaves on me thanks to the hopeful light peeking through from under the bedroom door…

In the morning, she wakes up, her twinkling eyes outshining the blazing sun and hopeful light. I look up at her and say, “Good morning,” and she leaves for work.


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