๑۩۞۩๑ hideaway ๑۩۞۩๑

the lovemaking had already begun. under the dinner table where a hint of your leg brushed against mine, one fateful evening almost a year ago. above it, your amusement is reflected by the telltale glint in your eye as the sound of my hearty laughter resonated above the din. one anecdote at a time, you have set the backdrop of our story, carefully weaving the opening chapters of our romantic chronicle as i listened, enthralled.

chapter 1

you have cajoled me to pay attention, gently stimulating my then-lethargic mind into submission. you kept at it, knowing full well that such things cannot be reached with haste. you’ve spun a tale that kept me entranced, captivated by the sharpness of your tongue as you told stories of diverse emotions.

then i longed for more. you have coaxed me, lured me into your snare; and i found myself needing more of the experience you’ve introduced to me. and i found it effortless to open up to you, just as you did to me — both of us giving and receiving at the same time.

chapter 2

you began to tell me about a story written on my body. your dark eyes that disappear when you flash a smile, leaving just a hint of crow’s feet at the edges are now hazy as you tell me about a certain wonderland that you discovered. you have mapped your territory: you know each crevice, each slope, each valley, the forest where you rest and seek solitude. and you tell me how you have come to know.

you tell me of your explorations, of the fortunes you’ve sought and the unexpected treasures you’ve discovered. your adventures are the same and never the same. and i know your tale.

chapter 3

it’s the same as mine. and i begin to do the same spinning, weaving, drawing you in my own story-telling. the same story, but written on your body. i tell you of the times when i have abseiled the length of your back, stopping by every scar, each with its own story buried in it. i tell you of the countless times i have lovingly observed your hands that tenderly stroke, gently pat, forcefully command, imaginatively create and affectionately protect. i tell you that my hazel eyes are butterflies, travelling my terrain from coast to coast, confident that in night flying, i know exactly where my landing strip would be.

i make your voyage mine, delighting in each new discovery. and just like you, my journeys always have the same destination, but each time i reach it, it is never the same.

chapter 4

to be continued….