Whisper
She throws her whisper over me like a blanket. She’s a ghost and she’s warm, she’s lucid. Not a memory, but a dream. She’s leaning into me, kissing at my ear. Filling me with her breath.
It’s the moments where your mind leaves that you’ll remember the most. The fleeting seconds where every single thing was right and beautiful, and you got a pat on the head, and a needn’t worry, take the day off.
You’ve done enough kid.
So when my mind comes back to me on a breeze I’m sitting there all dazed, and my lips are hanging open. I think about myself and she’s still on my ear. Over her shoulder is the window, and it’s iced over and I swear it’ll break. Every line in the glass is scraping across another, and it fills the room with a deafening ring.
Let go.
I close my eyes, concious now of every nerve. I feel the weight of the air around me heavy on my body. My hands start to fiddle, jerking nervously across her back. My knees hurt, and how long have I been sitting like this?
Fighting to forget, tossing and turning so you can sleep. You’ve lost it.
She smiles and rests her head on my shoulder, then picks it up and looks at me. She kisses me.
She loves you.
