winter and summer

this morning, i woke up with sadness. not the bad one, but the good one.

i suddenly miss you. i miss your warm skin under my freezing, early morning winter fingers. how you would stir a little, hold my hands and arrange them tightly around your waist. but you won't open your eyes. no, they stay close as my lips wander around your face, your neck, still sleepy, but slowly awakening to my eager, throbbing heart.

then as the wintry room becomes even hotter, you will roll over, eyes still closed, and meet my kisses with your tender, loving hands. candle long fingers, soft as the clouds hands, caressing my nakedness. just like yours, my skin is now slowly waking up, ready for the day's first act. that is always how we start our day. the breakfast of champions.

after a few minutes, you will rush to the bathroom, while i stay at the kitchen to prepare two cups of steaming coffee, sunny side ups, freshly toast bread. our second meal for the morning.

sometimes, when the mood hits me, i will join you in the shower room and we will start again what we have just finished doing inside the room. this time, with the hot water coming out from somewhere deep under the earth. nourishing our senses, now fully awake, now fully responsive to the elements of the earth. long, sweet, thunderous water running over and washing our soap covered, slippery bodies.

those were the days.

where did they go?

where did the promise go?

promises...........

ah, there were plenty of them. let me point out the most important one: we will stay together, if not as lovers, then as friends, supporting each other through more heartaches and failures, celebrating each others' little triumphs and mini achievements that may seem nothing to others.

but i can never be friends with my former lovers. life just doesn't work that way. how can you become friends again with someone who knows every hidden spots of your body, where to tickle you, where to hurt you, where to lift you, where to bring you down, where to crush you, where to wound you, where to heal you. familiarity to some maybe a comfort. for me, it's just pure agony.

there are mornings like this, of course. when i totally miss you. when i miss waking up and the first thing i see when i open my eyes are your dark blue eyes, deep and mysterious as the sea, staring at me, full of passion, of naughtiness, and of whatever else that run through your brain. you were a man of few words, as though a child just learning how to talk.

that must have been our biggest problem. i can't read minds. i am a man of words. i work with words for a living: written, spoken, but not communicated mentally.

speaking of moons, you once mentioned that my face reminded you of the moon. round, illuminated, but always sad. "you are my dark moon," you would always say. to which i responded with a dismissive smile. the one that you hated most. "can you give me a full, happy smile?" you'd ask.

i still miss you. but i no longer love you. those are two different things, you often told me. i never understood then. i would tell you: "you only miss someone you love." and we would argue.

now i know. i am happy to say.

it took me years to realise it. but i knew it then, right when our eyes met for the first time at a crowded bar, both drunk and lonely. i love you then. and i miss you now, when the summer sun is beckoning a lovely day at the beach, our favourite hangout. i miss those long drives. you at the wheels, me at the other seat, staring mindlessly at the trees.

but those were your summer. this is mine. cloudy and cold.