Fantasy-Day Twenty Six of NaPoWriMo

sitting alone, my drink
strong enough to prick tears
from eyes strictly kept dry,
all of a sudden tastes sickly sweet
sweetened by memories
troubling a drunken consciousness
like water circling a drain
white walls, grey in the waning sunlight
the only sound to keep me company
is your breathing
and i like it this way.
time has no relevance
as i trace patterns on your back
first my name, then yours
swirls and lines,
drawing inspiration from your ribs and your spine
careful to stop when your eyelids flutter
when your hands twitch
when you toss and turn
mumbling obscenities in your sleep
chastising my clumsy hands
tempting as it is
to run my fingers through your hair,
to outline a mouth no longer smirking
no longer frowning
no longer twisted by feelings you‘d keep secret
to feel the pulse that beats against your skin
like waves crashing on the shore
it would mean waking you up
and if there’s anything i fantasize about
it’s stretching this moment into an eternity.

Written by Mihika Antonia Dean for MTTN
Featured image by Vishrutha Rao for MTTN