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writing prompt 12

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Mar. 22nd, 2010 | 08:14 am
listening to: Pinback - Anti-Hu

Sun and wind and sand, and I want to go home. I think back to the morning, when the sun had been softer to the touch, the light and the sheets framing your face, and the way your limbs had tangled. Woken at four am by god knows what and across the room you lay entangled in the ghosts of dreams and memories. I sang to myself under my breath, evoking spirits of the 1960s as I pulled on an old t-shirt, letting myself out of the room as quietly as possible. You lay on the far side of the room. The light had only begun to trace you.
I made the coffee and poured it into the yellow mugs you had told me were your favorite. We had planned to drink so much coffee together, weeks before everything had burnt away and fallen to shit. Before those bridges were destroyed, I had been so taken by your charm and precision, the poetry dormant within your soul. You've always had that bold serenity. It never went unnoticed and I thought you should know.
I brought the yellow mugs back upstairs to where the dust particles were universes within themselves, floating, unaware, in the cosmos, the space between us. I set your mug on the table beside you, though you had yet to wake. Sun and no wind, no sand.
Dear god, you radiated. I sat and drank. Warmness within. Comfort. Your colors, illuminated, the sheets hugged the mathematics of your very being. The room was a universe comprised of tiny floating galaxies. Tiny giants made of tinier giants.
And you were there, the space between us unconscionable.
The morning minutes are an eternity when the sun is still soft to the touch. How could you have slept through the beauty? Though the beauty was you, as if the world radiated out from your very bones, projected onto me, and all from you. More coffee. Your eyes flutter.
We were awake, sitting in silence. I knew then you'd been awake the whole time. I knew then it would never last. This morning light would grow to die.
Where I am, there is sun and there is wind and there is sand. I want to go home.

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