Alive

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A ceiling fan rotated noisily above us. Goose pimples rose on my skin. The air had a chill lately. I could feel the gentle whoosh of your breath of my neck. Warm and certain. Your arm was draped firmly across my bare waist. It rose and fell with each breath I took, but I don’t think you noticed. Much like we don’t notice our own heartbeat. Your eyes were closed and I wondered if you were asleep already. The precipitate of your love was still warm between my legs. My fingers loitered in your hair and found their way to the back of your neck. I stroked you mindlessly till I found the bump where your spine began. I glanced over you again, your eyes were still shut. I let my fingers glide over your spine, bone by single bone, all the way down your back. I felt your grasp around me tighten. You were falling asleep, your muscles slowly beginning to slacken. Your breathing grew heavier and you were fast asleep. But I had never felt so alive before.

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