Sometimes

Sometimes

Sometimes, when I look deep in your eyes I swear I can see your soul. A star going supernova in the deep black of night, an unimaginable beauty in a vast uncharted void, a treasure waiting to be discovered. Outside, rain hammers on our window, thunder shakes the foundations of the house as the storm breaks outside the breezeblock walls. Blue tinged flashes disturb the blackness of our room, gods’ own strobe light searching for the sinners of our world. I look down at you lying on our bed and I smile, I remember all the good times that we had. I remember standing on a beach, waves crashing against the sea defences, spray, cool and refreshing in the hot summer evening splashing us. I remember the sound of your laughter. I remember the love for me you had shining in your eyes and I smile.

You see, the eyes are the windows to your soul. I look at you and I wonder, what do you see when you look deep in to mine? Do you see my soul, do you see beauty or something else. Do you see the man or the ghost of the man? I ask myself this and find I do not know. The leather of my coat is cold against my back. The draft from your open window catches in the folds and like a pair of wings it opens, surrounding me in darkness. I stifle a cry and pull it tight around me as I used to when we walked in the winter. I recall the feeling of leaves under Doc Martined feet, their grip struggling in the ice to keep me upright. I feel again the bitter wind burn my face as I walk to your house; I hear bare trees creak in the face of nature’s wrath, skeletons waiting for resurrection in the coming spring. In my mind I look up and see the cold hard stars shining down on me, pinholes in the great funeral shroud that is night, a shroud through which pitiless gods watch me and laugh.

I cast my eyes around your room and see the things I gave you, dust covered and unloved, desperately waiting for the loving touch of a silk soft duster to bring them to life again. On your dressing table I see a picture. A single shaft of moonlight like a silver dagger falls across it, a barrier to the loving smiles those it portrays, us, give one another in that one moment captured forever on a piece of paper, a memento of what was, what might be again? I remember the day of the picture; see again the brief flash as the camera records the moment. You hide in my shoulder and your hair touches my face. As I breathe I smell your shampoo, a heady mix of summer apples and honey. I feel again the roundness of your breast through our clothes, the heat of your breath on my neck, hear the whispered “I love you” that you utter in that timeless moment and I smile.

In the darkness of your room I look at your golden hair, scattered across your pillow and feel the longing for your touch again. I stand above you silently and watch the gentle rise and fall of your chest, half exposed by the covers. I find my eyes drawn to the smooth line of your neck and feel the need to kiss you, to bring you to wakefulness with the kiss of life. I long to lean forward and slide my hands under the covers, to explore the cool skin with my fingers, to trace loving hearts on your thighs as I have done before. Again the pull of memories tears me from you and the past fills me. Once more I am standing in our room like I stand now, above you. You lie before me, on the black silk sheets of our bed, your body cool against the sheets. Your arms are raised toward me and I step toward you, I kneel above you and you envelop me. Your touch is that of a goddess, an angel fallen to this earth to love me, to protect me. Again I feel your breast but this time there is nothing between us. My lips caress your neck, your shoulder, I work my way down to your perfect round breast, I feel the firmness in my mouth and I imagine how eve must have felt at the first touch of temptation, when her lips first felt the firm skin of the apple.

You moan and turn toward me. The past like a curtain is torn from me and again I stand in a dark room. The rain has stopped and there is silence save for the rhythmic sound of your breath. I can feel my hands clenched in my pockets. Anger begins to rise in my mind. The silence is broken by the gentle sound of wind chimes. For the last time the vortex of the past, the present and the future forms in my soul and I, a helpless passenger and drawn along until my eyes are burnt by the strong Mediterranean sun. There is sand under my feet and waves wash gently on an unfamiliar shore. You are in the sea, a splash of white against the deep blue of the water. You walk toward me, slowed by the pull of the water. It caresses you; reluctant as I to let you go. I look at the shape of your body, the gentle curve of your hips defined by the blue of your bikini. My eyes travel up toward your face, resting for a longing moment on the swell of your breasts before finally alighting on the beautiful sight of your smile. In my mind you are an angel from the legends of the ancients, perhaps Poseidon’s own daughter sent to me as a gift from the gods.

Something deep in my soul calls to me and with a start I awake. The shaft of silver is gone; instead the very first sliver of pre-dawn light creeps across you. I lean forward and allow my lips one slight touch to yours. The light too kisses me, burning, forcing me to hurry. My hand is no longer in my pocket and I slide it across your perfect throat, the throat I have kissed a thousand times. You wake as bright crimson washes across the alabaster white of your pillow, warm to the touch. An animal hunger rises in me but there is no time. You open your eyes and I look deeply in them. Like a supernova I see your soul flare, fight to survive, the most beautiful sight I will ever see, and then it fades. Your eyes are no longer a window but a mirror that shows only the darkness of my own soul. Laying the bloody knife down I reach and close your eyes, hiding forever their perfect beauty. I allow myself a single taste of your still warm blood and then like mist I am gone.