Dear Future Love,
Sometimes, late at night I lay awake and watch you sleep. Through the sliver of moonlight that spills across your face and onto my sheets, I observe your peaceful slumber. I close my eyes and try and surrender myself to such a sleep. But I can’t. Instead I burrow my way into you. I wiggle myself back until I am resting comfortably in your warm, soft nook. As if by instinct your arms wrap around me and you let out a long, slow sigh. Your soft breath tickles my neck, and your feet shift to try and warm mine. Even while sleeping you are silently taking care of me. I listen to the nothingness that surrounds us. I am always amazed at the silence. Where has the city gone? Am I really the only one still awake?
My eyes have adjusted to the darkness. I scan the piles of clothes, the silent piano and the stacks of books that reside around my room. The green glow of the digital clock reminds me it is late. Like an angry mother it scolds me for being awake at such an hour, and so I try again to sleep. I listen to your deep, steady breaths and try to match them. First I’m too slow, then too fast. Finally we breathe together. In and out. In and out. I am suddenly aware of our hearts beating. if I think hard enough can I really feel your heart through mine. Can i convince our heats to beat together simultaneously? I relax and concentrate. Breath for breath, beat by beat; like a metronome keeping time with our bodies I wait until we’ve become one singular beating, breathing organism. Are you aware of this synchronization? You in dreamland, me in reality. I’m tempted to wake you up and ask about your dreams. Was I there? Could you feel me? As I roll over to look at your face it starts to rain. The drops ping and ting the air-conditioner that hangs precariously six stories high outside my window. You’ve rolled onto your back now and our breaths have varied. You let out a little snore, a mumble and your hand searches for me under the covers. You settle on my left thigh and give it a little pat before you relax back into your deep-breathing slumber.
My eyes are beginning to droop and the room is turning fuzzy. The winter wind roars outside the window, but I am unaware of its cold breath as I lay contently entangled in your legs, wrapped in your warmth, in the middle of this long, december night
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