In this proximity, on his neck, I see a wave beneath his skin travel upwards every time the left side of his chest hops. The soothing post orgasmic feelings are gone and although I should be exhausted, my eyelids do not shut. I am in need of nicotine but instead, I stay put. In this angle, he is beautiful. He always is. Maybe, I'll grow the nerves to tell him one day. Tangled in a web of sheets, arms and legs, I observe the room out of boredom, not curiosity. An instrument made of wood and wire rests on brick, a dried rose pokes out of a vodka bottle and a creepy-crawler followed by its huge shadow duplicate. There is nothing to these observations, just a written recreation of what my eyes record. There is a vein that is particularly pronounced on my right breast. It becomes a clearer blue once it passes my nipple. I try to follow its path, but his arm wrapped around my body does not permit me. Finally, he shifts his body, turns on his side and faces the wall. I am free! I tiptoe, then float across the room to my purse. An easy access to heaven pressed between my lips. Quiet. Quiet. Wrap a robe around my body and find escape in my last cigarette. Only in the crisp night air, I realize how badly I would like to be back inside, asleep in his arms. Why do I hesitate to show affection? Why am I afraid to accept the love I feel for him? To let him know that my world is centered around him. I create a strong wall and make sure no one can penetrate it. Des mois après. Déjà Vu. Des images que je reconnaitre. I am tangled, again. Instead, there are knots in my brain. I observe the room, and this time, take the time to let everything sink in. An instrument made of wood and wire rests on brick, a dried rose pokes out of a vodka bottle and a creepy-crawler followed by its huge shadow duplicate. The probability of life, this large number keeps me thinking, tonight. I am disappointed in the direction I have steered my life. I was caught up in some nonsensical, superficial hullabaloo. But three words overwhelm me with the feelings of privilege and gratefulness. I am alive. The man I adore will come upstairs, soon enough. I will take a breath and will tell him how madly in love I am. Will lend him my eyes so that he may understand how I perceive him. He is wonderful, to me. Then, I will make love to him and involve my five senses into the action. I will fall asleep in his embrace that warms my body, soul and mind.