Entwined

"and he kissed her and kissed her and kissed her, little by little by little."

- Gregory Maguire

Somehow I've finally managed to learn how to sleep without fretting while you're arms were entwined around me. I woke up the way I was when sleep finally summoned me. I haven't moved a muscle which made me think that I'm getting used to you. The tossing and turning had somehow stopped.

I take pleasure in burrowing in your warmth, despite the sonorous sounds of your rhythmic breathing when you sleep. It makes me forget the uncertainty of everything that I am holding dear right now.

I will never like the smell of cigarette smoke, but a whiff of it mixed with the scent of your perfume and bath soap that lingers in the surface of your skin brings a heady clarity in my senses that gets trapped inside my nostrils. If I could only hold my breath in, and never let go of that scent without being killed in the process, I probably would’ve. Still, I would have to exhale and let go.

Sometimes in sleep, you drop light and subtle kisses in my hair. But then again, I may be just dreaming and cannot exactly tell. Sometimes you’ll make your presence known and you would enfold me in a sudden bear hug; I have to suppress a gasp.

You never let go of my hands. Even if I turn my back on you, or yours on me, you’d clasp my hands fully in yours. I get amazed when I see how the bigness of your hands envelops mine.

Despite the rickety and unstable circumstance that we have, I’ve never felt so safe.