Love Hides in Quiet Places – Part 3

This moment is monumental.

I hear the melody in the lilt of your voice as you utter the words.

Silence befalls the room.

It is oh so quiet.  Silence, honoring the space between us, envelops us in its sacred embrace.

The quiet intensifies the moment.

There is no sound.  No shout of praise, no roar of laughter, no cry of surprise.  There is no faint echo of mourning or sob of regret haunting the space between us.

There is no sound.

The light of a candle flickers wildly in the darkness.  Its transient light illuminating my face in one moment, my breasts in the next.  But you do not depend on your eyes to see me.  Never before has anyone seen me so clearly.

We are not touching, and yet, this is the closest I’ve ever allowed anyone to be.  You shift from laying on your back to your side, propping yourself up on your elbow to face me, attempting to discern my expression in the dark.  I feel your skin almost brush against mine; no contact has been made, yet I feel you in ways more significant than physical touch can manifest.

We lay here, honoring the silence, honoring the darkness, and honoring the space between us.

Each time we meet, it’s as though I’m running into a long lost friend; we spend hours catching up on things we didn’t know we already knew about each other.  When we speak, it’s like I’m hearing my favorite song again for the first time.  And whenever we touch, you feel brand new.

Each time with you is a new first time.

So there’s no rush, no angst, no lust: only being, hearing, seeing, and feeling.

Our love, a perfect work of art in progress.  With every unveiling, I become more connected to and entranced by the beauty of the detail, the colors, and every imperfect stroke.

Our love, set against the backdrop of everything that has made you, and everything that has made me—everything that has come to pass to make us, WE.

I loved you before I knew that I loved you.

And for the first time since we’ve met, I am courageous enough to say the words aloud.

“I love you, too.”

More silence.

This moment is monumental.

©Tamara Kellam 2016

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