it started with your hands in my hair, hiding in the back of someone else's party.
it started with your eyes and your lips and your hands.
affection was playing. it was something close to 2 a.m. and i couldn't pinpoint the precise moment when we got into this. when we became this.
but it started with your hands.
it was always your hands and the way you said i'm not good with words in that rainy saturday evening, laying on my bedroom floor. you don't have to be, i remember saying. i want to, though.
but i didn't.
you were always good enough with your hands and eyes and the way you could say everything without letting a single word fall from your lips.
i knew it from the start and i recognized it over and over again. when you used your fingers to trail down my spine. when you pressed them, gently, right where you knew i wanted you to.
your hands were my favorite part of your body, i must say.
they are my favorite now.
the voice on the radio said we had two hours. two hours and it would be over. all of it. us. they. the humankind.
i can feel your breath on my neck, your lips right where i like to be kissed, but i can't hear you when you say it. i know you said something. i felt the vibrations through my skin but i couldn't hear it. it's chaos outside. and i can't hear you.
somehow, that is the worst part of it all.
say it with your hands, i whisper.
you look up, your lips no longer on my neck. say it with your hands, i repeat. i beg, actually. and i know you know what i mean.
the thing with you is that no matter what else is happening, no matter how troubled your mind may be, how loud the voices are screaming inside of you, you always find a way to shut them down for me. with me.
i can feel you doing just that, just now. your hands, your oh so soft hands, under my sweatshirt and your lips on mine and suddenly everything is quiet.
everything is quiet when i can feel your skin and breath and thumping heart and when i breathe you in it feels like there is nothing else but you happening right now. nothing but us.
and maybe that is true. maybe we are the last ones, maybe we were lucky enough to get five more minutes than everybody else. maybe we were so lucky that we never got to realize it, because it's when i'm about to let go, when your hand is right where it should have been all along, that our time runs out.
