Journey, redux.
i'm sitting here on the upper berth, back against the divider, feet up on the empty seat adjacent. i haven't sat here like this since the last time i was here with you. it's been over four years actually. somehow i can't shake the memory, seeing you stretched out lazily on the bunk. the emotions it provokes are still strong. they make me feel as if i've been an accomplice to a beautiful crime. and despite the four years past, i can still see your sinuous curves curled up on the seat, head resting on my lap, and your hungry lips pouting, wanting, needing to kiss me.
there is a certain comfort level to intimacy that you reach after a time, when nothing is hurried. its almost lazy how slowly we touch each other. you look at me coyly, wink then bite your forefinger. you're such a temptress at times, pulling it off with such innocent naivete. i trail a naughty fingernail down from your gentle chin, the curve of your creamy neck, to the hollow between your collarbones. a small sigh escapes your lips. i exhale there gently, and your arms scissor around my neck and pull me down.
i look around the train, and nothing seems to have changed. same seat, same windows, same food and drink being hawked. only one difference though. i've changed. maybe you grew up quicker than i did then, but now i've moved on, moved up, moved to better things, i hope. i remember something i wrote a while ago:
"you're only as good as your past allows you to be. the past means nothing if you don't learn from it. my past means nothing, for i have learned nothing. it's been a bittersweet discovery that i am what i am, and that's that - nothing changes."
i'm not sure i still believe that.
your hands are around my neck, pulling, asking, desiring. you raise your head off my lap, and there we stay, staring into each other's eyes. no doubts, worries or cares, its just you and me. the world comes to a sudden standstill, and the train's side-to-side rocking ceases to exist, as our lips meet. you play with my earlobe, as your tongue darts left and right, flicking and running away from mine. my finger traces little figure-8's on your flat belly, and that flips a switch. your teeth mash against mine, as we kiss, hard.
the bunk is small by any standards, but it seems desolately empty now as i lie here, alone, staring at the rivets in the ceiling. the sheets are all railway issue, plain white with a single blue stripe. i remember the cream-colored bedsheet, with little blue and green flowers, as we lay under it whispering great intellectual debates and matters of environmental importance. my heartbeat feels louder with your head pressed to my chest. i play with your little ringlets, little wild ringlets. i tug at one and your eyes fly open in surprise. there's mock outrage in your growl as your mouth comes up looking to bite. instead i grab your head, as we kiss, again.
i don't know how long we lay there, under the sheets, giggling away to my inane (insane?) jokes like a pair of perfect potheads. perfect pair, ah yes, that's right - we were the perfect pair. you are a drug for me. without you, i start craving for you. with you, i am as high as the skies above. and with too much of you it dulls the rush. interesting. with your chin on my chest, you look at me. you're gently mouthing the words to eric clapton's "you look wonderful tonight.." my ears strain to catch your breathy voice, and i close my eyes, hearing the song. a little later i open my eyes and i'm still here, same bunk, same train rocking, but there's no you.
there is a certain comfort level to intimacy that you reach after a time, when nothing is hurried. its almost lazy how slowly we touch each other. you look at me coyly, wink then bite your forefinger. you're such a temptress at times, pulling it off with such innocent naivete. i trail a naughty fingernail down from your gentle chin, the curve of your creamy neck, to the hollow between your collarbones. a small sigh escapes your lips. i exhale there gently, and your arms scissor around my neck and pull me down.
i look around the train, and nothing seems to have changed. same seat, same windows, same food and drink being hawked. only one difference though. i've changed. maybe you grew up quicker than i did then, but now i've moved on, moved up, moved to better things, i hope. i remember something i wrote a while ago:
"you're only as good as your past allows you to be. the past means nothing if you don't learn from it. my past means nothing, for i have learned nothing. it's been a bittersweet discovery that i am what i am, and that's that - nothing changes."
i'm not sure i still believe that.
your hands are around my neck, pulling, asking, desiring. you raise your head off my lap, and there we stay, staring into each other's eyes. no doubts, worries or cares, its just you and me. the world comes to a sudden standstill, and the train's side-to-side rocking ceases to exist, as our lips meet. you play with my earlobe, as your tongue darts left and right, flicking and running away from mine. my finger traces little figure-8's on your flat belly, and that flips a switch. your teeth mash against mine, as we kiss, hard.
the bunk is small by any standards, but it seems desolately empty now as i lie here, alone, staring at the rivets in the ceiling. the sheets are all railway issue, plain white with a single blue stripe. i remember the cream-colored bedsheet, with little blue and green flowers, as we lay under it whispering great intellectual debates and matters of environmental importance. my heartbeat feels louder with your head pressed to my chest. i play with your little ringlets, little wild ringlets. i tug at one and your eyes fly open in surprise. there's mock outrage in your growl as your mouth comes up looking to bite. instead i grab your head, as we kiss, again.
i don't know how long we lay there, under the sheets, giggling away to my inane (insane?) jokes like a pair of perfect potheads. perfect pair, ah yes, that's right - we were the perfect pair. you are a drug for me. without you, i start craving for you. with you, i am as high as the skies above. and with too much of you it dulls the rush. interesting. with your chin on my chest, you look at me. you're gently mouthing the words to eric clapton's "you look wonderful tonight.." my ears strain to catch your breathy voice, and i close my eyes, hearing the song. a little later i open my eyes and i'm still here, same bunk, same train rocking, but there's no you.
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