I should be tired I feel tired but I just can't sleep. Nothing new with
that. Usually on nights like these I would try to find some rest on the couch,
watching tv, videos, whatever, anything to keep myself occupied, to try to turn
off my brain. But not tonight.
Instead I sit here on the bed and watch you sleep. You're beautiful,
especially in this diffuse halflight. But this is something I'll never tell
you. You already know this, no need to pander to your ego any more than I
already do. I can't take my eyes off you. Watching you sleep makes me wonder if
anything I know about you is real. You look so peaceful, so innocent and young,
it makes it hard to accept what you are, to reconcile the image with what I
know what you've done.
But then I don't really know, do I? I assume, I guess and I accuse—no
accused—you of all kind of things. Some you denied, some you just seemed to
ignore. I still don't know if you killed my father. I think you did but you say
you didn't and I'm beginning to wonder if you aren't telling the truth. Fool
for love? Maybe. I know that there are a lot of people who would question my
sanity if they could see us. See what we do, the way we kiss and love. The way
we hold each other when the nightmares haunt us. No-one ever did that for me,
no-one except you. My beautiful killer. My deadly lover. My life never was
what one could call normal so why did I expect to have a 'normal' lover? I
never could see myself in a nice house with a white picket-fence, 2.1 children
and a dog. Still can't.
So I guess it's okay that I ended up with a... what? ...a killer? ...a liar
and thief? ...a resistance fighter? ...a survivor? ...an angelic devil? Well,
I ended up with you. Can't say that I regret it, not now when I have you here
in my bed. When I can touch you, make love to you, even ask you questions with
the possibility that you might answer and even tell me the truth.
My scrutiny seems to have woken you. You shift to your side and your eyes
open slowly. A frown and then a sleepy smile crosses you face and you murmur in
this wonderful sleepy, husky voice: "Come back to bed, Fox."
And I do what you tell me, burying myself in the warm embrace of your arms.
Held tight and safe by you, sleep comes quickly.
end
Night
Musings
by Gwendolen
How do you do it? Sleeping the sleep of the just, as ironic as that sounds?
