Remember…
That moment when you touched hands for the first time? You are sitting on the couch watching a movie. You are 15 and the person sitting next to you makes you want to jump out of your skin, in a good way. You are sitting there in the dark and your entire body is awake, tense, aware of every single move. You are holding your breath as the two of you slowly inch your way closer to each other. Closer and closer until your pinky fingers touch. Lightning strikes. It's the most exhilarating feeling in the entire world.
Or that time after you stayed the night for the first time. You are 25. It’s summer. The windows are open. There is a hot breeze coming in through the window that makes the half drawn curtains flutter. The rays of sunshine are hitting the wall at just the right angle. The two of you are lying there together one arm stretched out toward the sky. Your hands are intermingling as you both stare up at them. It’s quiet and you have nothing else to do today. You’ll stay there until late in the morning, then get up to make coffee, cut up some baguette with butter and fig marmalade only to get right back into the crisp white sheets. There are some books on the floor next to the bed. You pick one up. “The Energy of Slaves” by Leonard cohen. You open it to page 33 and read out loud
I am dying
because you have not
died for me
and the world
still loves you
I write this because I know
that your kisses
are born blind
on the songs that touch you
I don’t want a purpose
in your life
I want to be lost among
your thoughts
the way you listen to New York City
when you fall asleep
Or that time you were in the kitchen preparing diner after a long week. It’s Friday evening and you’ve made yourself I nice glass of crisp dry white wine. Nothing too complicated on the menu. Cacio e pepe. You had it last year in Rome and it’s been a go to ever since. In the other room you hear the needle drop on the record player and the low slow like honey voice of Chris Connor warms up the whole apartment. A hand slides into yours from behind. a slow smooth turn and you are in each others arms swaying gently back and forth. The kitchen instantly turns into a smokey ball room and time has stopped.