Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Stay With Me

It’s odd how the smell of another lingers on you the next day. Even after shower and shampoo, it’s olfactory memory. He smelled musky and earthy, a bit like a wild mushroom. I liked it.

I wanted him stay the night, take a shower in the morning. I’m thinking he’d have chosen either the Green Apple or Strawberries and Cream shower gel.

He was too “in his head”, he said, to sleep. The ticking time bomb of the second hand a reminder of slumber slipping away. Certainly understand. I can’t sleep in an unfamiliar place; it takes time to adjust to a hotel room, a new mattress, a new person. Chances are I’d have only dozed, a strange presence and weight in a space usually reserved for one. Kind of wish I hadn’t got up for water, broken from the spoon and the cocoon of enveloping arms. I actually felt petite tucked into his chest. But then somehow I couldn’t get back in.

It was the first time in a long time I was okay with the staying. First time in a long time I knew what it must feel like when I encourage the going.

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