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Prelude (Listening to "Kathy's Song)
by Danielle ErnstIt was naturally cold that December morning
and it was the tickle of my hair on my face,
rustled by your breath,
that roused me
In the chill air of the room, I laid quietly
contemplating, remembering,
wondering what the best course of action would be,
and concluded to choose inaction
instead.
You stirred eventually, and I,
either too scared or too polite to wake you up,
pretended to still be asleep
and watched you through barely parted lids
Biting the insides of my mouth to keep from
returning your soft, groggy smile, I played on
and you moved to brush your hand against my cheek
and I waited
but your touch never came
You whispered my name gently, implying
little to no tone of affection
just extending the same polite intentions I had shown you
and you woke me gently
every word, I already knew-the time, the need to leave,
the need to pluck myself out of your well-practiced
morning alone
and I feigned a yawn to hide watery eyes
We each turned our separate ways, pulling on
the layers of formality, and I
couldnt help but feel more and more exposed
with each garment applied.
And it came in the simple gesture
of you handing me my blouse, and i
turned slowly, a chill of modesty bit back instinctively
as you watched me try to ignore your eyes
but you didnt let go
You held on, playfully
and I felt that momentary flutter, as if
realizing you had truly woken up at the sight of
what you had seen only as an impediment last night
a fabric roadblock thrown carelessly aside
I met your gaze, still guarded, wondering
if maybe you just wanted to ease the tension
that filled the room around us, making it hard
to move
hard to breathe, but
you smiled
And for the second time in its life, the blouse flew
haphazardly, and layers once again peeled away
until I wore only you, and you wore me
The sun had shifted, strained rays straying lazily through
the morning haze
You kept your head on my chest
absently tracing an abstract pattern
across my breast
as I kept my voice from shaking, calling for a cab
and
weaving a hand through your hair
Again, the silence fell, but appropriately so,
and I found myself following a trail of
What-ifs, leading somewhere I wasnt sure I could go, someplace
I wasnt sure you would go
with me
Dressing quickly this time, no room for distractions, I
let you lead me out to the door, now awkward,
half hoping I could make my departure quick, but you
insisted
and together, we walked down the hall.
And on the way down, we stood opposite,
one watching the other, silent-though
wanting nothing more than to speak,
as if fearing the weight of our words
would bring the elevator crashing down
And I felt it then, in some unnamable part of my mind,
that silence might just be
our undoing
and I grew nervous, wondering
what path we would follow from here,
and which one would lead the other?
I pushed it away as we reached the ground floor
wanting nothing more than
to believe you would break that quiet, that stone dead
silence
if only because you knew I lacked
the strength to do it myself
But even as we felt it, walking hand in hand
the exhaust of the cab wafting snow white
in the naturally cold December morning
you stayed
as silent as me
Abruptly, your lips felt mine, and as the driver sighed
immune to the emotions that jolted
as we connected
and a warm relief flooded through me, your kiss
reminding me
that you had given just as much of you to me
as I to you
And I decided to hope for no words,
and simply felt
with no inhibitions
with no expectations
with no predetermined rules of what love was
and wasnt
And I
promised myself, if-or when,
I ever had the chance again, I
would wake you, biting back my over indulging
insecurity, ignoring the possibility of regret in your eyes
and, just as you had, silent,
let my smile do all the talking 01/17/2006 Author's Note: ...chapter one...
Posted on 01/18/2006
Copyright © 2026 Danielle Ernst
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