Night Moods
It’s quiet. No, it’s silent. It’s still like the moments between a heartbeat when the pulse ceases to exist. It is so silent that the night shivers in nervousness. A soundless environmental evaluation where the moon wears light as a mask of peace. Silently I hear the movement of your breath. Like when you inhale the potential of lips pressed together and exhale the fulfillment of the very second that just passed. I hear the steadily increasing passion, driving your heart at speeds like the rainstorms in the Amazon. I hear the rustling sheets engaged in a ballet of tug-of-war as they boast of strength with every pull until exhausted and shapeless. The flutter of your eyelashes gracefully sweeping my ears. Fingers through your hair as wind through a plush forest. Your hands sliding down my back like sand in an hour glass Beautifully. Effortlessly. The wind is not blowing. The air is not moving. It is not raining. The creatures are not creeping. The bed is not occupied. The space is vacant. The earth is still. It’s just me and the light that serves as a mask for the moon. Silent. Still. Nothing. Nothing but the beat of my heart whose passion plays a symphony of you.
Oliver McCutchen Jr.
