She's here again to visit me. I can't see her while I'm locked inside, surrounded by these walls that keep me from hugging her, from being with her. Yet, I can feel her whenever she comes to visit me. I know she's outside, coming for me.
Love, I miss you so much. I know you're there, with just this wall between us. A wall so thin I can almost hear you breathing. But it's still a wall that keeps me in. Keeps me away from you.
She tells me stories.
It usually starts out animatedly, she talks about so many things and I just patiently listen, mesmerized by the cadence of her voice, and the way she laughs.......that funny, breathy, nasal laugh that captivated me since day one.
I remember that first time we met, when I saw her and lost my footing over a step I missed on the stairs. She rushed to help me up but could not contain her giggling and let out a nasal laugh that was half snort and half sigh. We laughed at each other, our faces so close, that we stopped laughing midway to just stared into each other's eyes.
"Babe, careful naman sa paglalakad, ang lampa mo pa naman," She used to joke while poking my middle.
"Alam mo, ang bully mo sakin," I'd say with my lip jutting out, knowing that she'd pinch my cheeks and pull me for a kiss whenever I do that. I'm cute, what can I do? She adores my cuteness and I play it up to my full advantage.
I remember how she wakes me up with kisses all over my face and neck, her graceful hands groping my love handles and playfully pinching me. It used to offend me how she'd play with a stubborn part of my anatomy that refuses to firm up regardless of my workouts, but I learned to love how she likes to pinch my middle, or how she loves to wrap her arms around me from behind, and pinch my middle while she bites her lip in that adorable way that makes me reach hungrily for her and kiss her senseless.
What starts out to be playful groping turns into something passionate and beautiful, something that always feel as though we're doing it for the first time. I worship her body with my hands and mouth, living for her sighs and moans, lovingly coupling with her with my whole being. When I'm inside her, it's as though I'm pouring my life force into her, yet I gain instead of lose, because she makes me feel invincible and capable of conquering anything. She is my rock, my strength.
She's at a loss for words. It is when she gets to this point that I feel weak and helpless, wanting to hug her badly. She's silent, but I can almost hear the suppressed sobs, imagine her wiping tears surreptitiously, almost as though she doesn't want me to see her this way. She knows I hate it when she cries, especially when I am the cause of her tears.
"Richard, I miss you so much. I miss your smell most of all, your shirts don't smell like you anymore. I miss waking up at mornings spooned against you.......how you never tire of me even when I'm always needy."
Maine. Don't do this to yourself. I'm already a done deal, I can never go back to you. Live your life, find someone else......
And I falter at this. Will I ever really be ok if she finds someone else? Have someone else's hands on her body, his lips kissing every inch of her smooth skin? Will it be ok for her to moan and sigh to someone else's embrace, her graceful legs entwining around another man's hips while I lay locked up in this prison.
Life is so unfair. SO UNFAIR.
And then her hands are on the walls of my prison, caressing the smoothness of porcelain, lovingly whispering my name.
"I love you so much Richard. I still do. I always will....."
She opens the lid and a gentle breeze allows some air into my dungeon. The minute specks of my ashes are borne into the air, flying free, greedily settling all over her hair, her beautifully sculpted shoulders, her face, her body.
Like a cloak my ashes enfold her in an embrace, loving the feel and familiarity of her essence. Is it still right to say I live for moments like this when I'm so far gone already? But I do. I love the feel of her fingers on my ashes, when she lovingly feels my ashes through her fingertips.
I try to wrap her with my presence, to make her feel she is never alone. I am always with her, I never left her.
She froze for a moment, as though feeling something strange. She looks around quickly, then sits still, closing her eyes.
"Richard......." She whispers, as though she could feel me touching her, as my ashes settle on her skin.
"Love, are you here? I miss you so much, I'm beginning to imagine you're actually here. I feel you...."
We share a sweet moment, locked in the past.
With one last touch of her fingertips through my ashes, she closes the lid of my urn, and presses her lips against it. It is dark and suffocating once again, I am back to being lifeless as she sets the urn in place and walks away with tears in her eyes.
Till your next visit, love. I'll wait.
