the moment we stepped out the restaurant’s door that night… The evening looked staged as we walked on the snowy sidewalk. The snowflakes seemed to fall in slow motion, giving the street lights a strange halo.
As natural as the discussion had been during dinner, silence now seemed the only comfortable option. And the cracking of our steps in the snow was the only sound breaking our perfect communion…
As another pedestrian passed us by with his panting dog, I had to step a bit to your side, our coat sleeves brushing against each other. Before I could let the space between us grow wider again, I felt the warmth of your hand wrap itself around mine. Holding it, you took a few more steps, and suddenly stopped.
Turning my way, I found myself, back to the building’s wall. “At your mercy” I remember thinking at that moment. But you just took my other hand in yours, and it seemed to disappear in your large palm.
“Your hands are cold…”
I am not sure if I heard you, or if I read it in the mist from your mouth. I wanted to read more on your lips, I felt tipsy and the wine had nothing to do with it. I was drunk on you, on your ways and on this look you covered me with. I yearned to black out in your arms and I didn’t care where I’d wake up.
As if you read my mind, you leaned forward slightly pressing yourself against me. Leaving my left hand in the cold again, you brought yours to my chin and delicately running your fingers on my neck, you guided my face up, meeting me halfway.
I closed my eyes as your lips met mine… Your warm, soft, tender lips… You kissed me with confidence, and I was weak in the knees, hoping our mouths would never have to separate again…
Oh how I remember this very moment, when you erased any past I might have had, and made me want to live for the present, as long as you’d be at arm’s reach.
At least, I would… For sure I would…