We are comfortable in each other’s most intimate places. Breathing each other’s breath, probing each other’s thoughts and mouths, snuggling up to skin and cerebellums. Here we are allowed to love and be loved and here we understand this is who we are, always were and always will be. Here we don’t need to hold tight, for curled into each other souls are cradled, all the rawness and openness held perfectly protected. Sharing and swallowing each other whole. But these moments are allowed only in fleeting spaces - time in between time, the rest of the world shut out where there is only you and only me and the stillness between the walls of this apartment. In between the grey and the return of color with the dawn. In between other lovers. In between thoughts. In between lay friends, weeks, attractions, obligations, and the everyday.
In the spaces of everyday we vanish. The energy is displaced, consumed by that curious need to explore what the rest of the world has to offer and discover our places in it and our responsibilities to it and to ourselves, looking ever outward, and no longer toward each other. Hands clasping each other slip apart and fall back to our sides.
