Waking To A Dream
A melody of breaths and heartbeats...
A soft feeling on his side...
Happy...
Is that what happiness sounds like?
The soft cold mornings
To turn into a long-awaited time,
With just a person
To wake up by your side?
Sheets and quilts,
To keep you in.
Never to be apart?
A warm heart?
Happy...
Was that what happiness feels like?
...
Angel...
With curls for a halo...
Perfect, like gods' best feats,
Brightened by the morning sun,
By my side,
Bathing in these linen sheets...
You sat on my old chair,
You passed your gentle hands,
Through the books I left there...
My notes and dreams,
My lines and nightmares.
You complimented my handwriting,
You complimented my words,
Not knowing dear...
I wrote them for you,
But those lines you never heard...
As you fill this room on light,
I sit back and think:
Was it mere luck,
To have you here?
Last night,
And maybe again tonight?
...
Waking up is always confusing for a moment...even more confusing when there's double the warmth there usually is, double more than one body alone can produce. And it's again even more confusing when your hand is interlocked with another and they're both resting over a usually empty pillow. An empty pillow that now is occupied by e mess of free long curls. The color of which takes him to memories off a few days back...when he first saw them rest on marvel purely golden naked skin.
The angel from that day is no longer naked on this reality, in the one momentarily living, he's actually wearing his shirt, the one he offered him last night...he feels as he looks...so soft and vulnerable.
Louis fills with goosebumps as the warm body shifts closer to his own, hands tightening each other's grip unconsciously...They fit like a tight knot together, never to be unleashed, maybe that's what he wished, maybe that's what holding a hand means.
The goosebumps soothed when the close approaching starts to feel less new. It starts to memories itself, write itself on their brains automatically, like instincts. The need to be so impossibly close, and not only because they're both lonely...but because they wish to never be left alone ever again. Have I found you? It's all he can think off as he sees them, so close, so real...
Louis stares at his closed eyelids, soft like fresh spring's rose petals. He wants to touch his face, feel his lips with his own or just over his fingertips, he smiles just thinking of it, they had felt like sparks, he can still feel the tingling's like ghosts over them. Louis reaches a hand to send away a curl, now his neck free of them. He notices a few dots of birthmarks that reach his collarbone, he resisted the need to trace them and connect them all together like consolations. I'm bad at astrology, but I'd study your tiny stars every single night after the light is gone.
YOU ARE READING
Muse // Larry
FanfictionAnother Short Story... Original title: 'The Lost Poem' Louis' last assignment at his college before graduation is to write about his heats and creativity's endless muse. Only problem is...Louis' all over the place, his muse has never been something...
