afterglow

you wake up the next morning and he's still asleep. he looks beautiful to you. and vulnerable, for once. you long to kiss his back and play with his hair but it might wake him up. and once awake, he will surely just grab you and kiss you and fuck you. because that’s all you're good for, to him. so you just enjoy the moment. savor it, really. you try and count the moles on his back. they remind you of stars, for some reason. may be cause they're impossible to count. you put your hand on his back and stare, absolutely fascinated, at the difference in color. your very, very brown hand against his very, very white skin. it somehow makes sense. perfect sense, really. but you suspect that you're the only that thinks so.

you remember snatches of last nights conversations. you remember how he confessed, in his slightly drunken state, that underneath his tough exterior (he actually preferred to call it "realistic"), there was a heart of a poet (for he is one). he was yearning to be loved. and you had responded that that was what everyone wanted. and he shouldn't dismiss it as unrealistic or even idealistic because everyone falls in love. everyone.

you remember how he wanted to know about you. how he wanted to know what you wanted. and how you responded with your usual cynicism "nothing". and when he asked "why nothing", you replied that it was only cause wanting nothing was harder than wanting most things. if you could reach a state where you truly, truly did not want anything, you'd be happy.

but you haven’t reached that state. you, unfortunately, are only human. you yearn for love and affection, like everyone else. like him. but neither of you will turn to each other. or to most other people. there's been too much hurt, too much drama, for you to bother for a while.

so you will just pretend that you don't really want anything from him. you'll play his game. you will go along with the "i'm in it for the sex" line - it works for both of you, it's easier to pretend that you don't have a heart than to admit that you do, and its right there for the taking.

you put on your clothes and leave before he can open his eyes. you don't want the morning sex, you don't want to be there to look into his eyes after what happened the night before and see nothing. you want to leave before anything else happens.

you want to leave before you fall in love.