I want you to stay.

Chap. 1

Self absorbed, yet unmistakably charming, he was pure plain and simple, slightly bothered by the sunday morning sunshine that snuck through the window and that made his eye colour look like a deep brown of the winter trees at twilight. He was sitting before me in his white shirt which he kept its first couple of buttons unbuttoned, making drinking advil effervescent to cure his headache from last night look like art.

And i was standing here in the kitchen, brewing him coffee, thinking about the moves of his hips, his hot breath on my neck, his moans of pleasure in my ear, knowing that he will not stay long, remembering how he told me with eyes full of lust and as brown as the beer bottle he was drinking last night 'I want you on the floor. I'll apologize for the carpet burns and the heartache later. ' And I knew from the moment he placed his hand on my jawline and landed his soft lips that tasted of marlboros on mine, that he was not the sort of men to stay long.

I never tasted tragedy, until our lips touched yesterday; it burned both of our tongues with so much cold that I was not able to reckon which of us started the fire. It was a perfect scene for two hearts lost in their own story but a tragic twist when you found that in the end it killed one of us.
He belonged completely and entirely to himself. But childlike, i am still throwing pennies into fountains wishing that he would stay. But i wasn't courageous enough to tell him. I wasn't courageous enough to tell him with wide, distressed eyes that i will make him strawberry homemade ice-cream, and welcome him with arms wide open when he gets back home at the end of the day; if he just stays.

''you look like silver lining, lone ranger running through an open space.'' He whispered with his yorkshire accent taking his eyes off of his newspaper and raising them at me.

He had this face that just said, baby i was made to break your heart.

''Come sit next to me, before I go''

I forced a smile on my face, put two cups of coffee on the table and sat next to him. I didn't want him to leave. I wanted him to stay. I wanted to hear more of his poetry. ''I think I am too much of a person, to be a whole and complete poem''

He asked why.

''My name does not alliterate ''

''Your name isnt rio, but you're an explosion. My favourite explosion.''

''My sweat doesn't smell like lavendar''

''Your appetizing scent has been my oxygen all night long. I breathed it to remain alive.''

I let a laugh escape from my mouth. Was I challenging him ? He sure knows how to answer smoothly. I decided to keep on going. Maybe I could make him stay. Maybe he would see the poetry in me and decide to stay.

''My body doesn't break like eggshells.''

''One mile to every inch of your skin feels like porcelain, who's talking about eggshells.''

''Be cruel to me. I think i'm a fool for you'' I said, not quieting his eyes as glossy and brown as a beetle. His smile widened.

''Such a modern lover made of outer space, breathing stardust, kissing like the colour of a constellation falling into place, suddenly making the sky feel like a schism, rarer than a can of dandelion and burdock can't really be a fool for somebody like me'' He winced as if i spoke some nonsense words. In fact, he was the one speaking words i could barely understand their origin. All i'd keep doing was wanting to take shelter in his deep broken voice, it was a place in where such words never came off as fake or wrong. Always rythmic.

I had forgotten what it felt like to blush all over my body. When I was fifteen i realized that jumping from heights clears your lungs in a way that crying in bed never could. He just felt like the air at the top of a cliff. Now that I'm twenty two, all i wanted to hear him say was I wanna be yours. But he's probably somebody's else, somebody who was enough to be written a poem about. And this thought only made me want to scream my lungs out, as if i was fifteen again.

It was just too hard to take my eyes off of him. And it was harder not to silently wish he could stay. But, the hardest was to convince my self that he was right, he's not worth being a fool for. He'll leave anyway...

''You're so silent, love. You make me wanna kiss the unsaid words off of your lips and swallow them whole, no matter how bitter they taste.''

I remained silent. Whatever that comes out of my mouth couldn't be as poetic and charming as his words.

''What's keeping you so speechless, love ?"

If I could allow him to dive into the black ocean of my thoughts, he would have easily guessed that i would turn that hurricane inside of my mind into constellations and name it after him.

''I just can't get the hang of poetry'' I smiled.

The poets will abuse your body, they'll hang your smile on the very edge of the sky just so they can call it beautiful. They'll make music notes fall out of the hollows in your spine, turn your ribs into xylophones just so to hear the rhythm of their lines.The poets will learn to un-love you when the time comes, when you bring no more muse to their pens, when you fill no more papers with yourself, when you can't make them stay.

''Excuse my drunken monologues, love. But what did you except ? I'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck. Or I did last time I checked. '' He continued, probably unaware that the more he talked, the more i wanted him to stay.

As his words burned holes in my skin and cut me open with a jagged piece of glass, he got up and my heart skipped a beat. This was it. It was time for him to leave. I wanted him to stay. I didn't know how to tell him. I didn't know how to make him stay.

He put on his leather jacket from yesterday that still smelled of cigarettes, drank his last gulp of coffee and approached me. ''Your shoulders are frozen'' he noticed as he put his warm hands on me.

''Im an explosion. Explosions are supposed to be cold as night'' I answered.

He smiled pleasantly. I swear his smile could be able to melt icebergs.

''Thank you for breakfast, love.''

''Anytime'' I responded faster than i expected, thinking it was obvious enough that i needed him to stay.

I wished I looked like poetry, maybe then i could be enough to make him stay. He held my hand so tight in his, his fingers brought galaxies together and clouds of stardust that has for too long been too far from each other, he kissed my forehead, put on his sunglasses and left.

The next days, I couldn't think of anything to dream about except him. I couldn't find anywhere to hide except in the mermoy of his lips dancing with mine.

The next days, I drank about it, smoke about it, but didn't talk about it.