As she sleeps...

She lies asleep on her bed. Her head turned to the right, her hand nestling her head, a strand of hair falling gently over her face. Her breathing is deep, intense. She mutters something as she dreams: is she having a good dream? A bad one? Or none that she’ll remember in the morning.

It’s dark in the room; cloudless outside. But the light of the moon shades everything here, all her possessions: music, perfumes, books – all the things that make her history.

She stirs. She sits up on her bed, as if she was called... called to him. She stands up, walks over to him standing there. Questions stir in her mind: why is he here tonight invading her sanctuary? What does he want? Is this a dream? the drums start to beat, encasing the two lovers in its rhythm; pulling them into each others’ circle. As the rhythm increases it pushes them to move closer to one another, forcing them to be in front of each other.

She puts her hand on his chest; he slips his around her waist. As the flutes start to resonate he begins stroking her hair. She wonders is this it. Is this the moment when he says it all? He strokes her face, pushing the strand of hair behind her ear. He smiles that smile, the one that could warm her heart in an instant, but here it means something different, she’s not sure. It’s tinged with this deep, unsettling sadness.

The two turn in the glow of the moonlight. Their shadows united and not a sliver of light remains between the union of their two bodies. She wants to ask him so much but she dare not speak in case he leaves as soon as he arrived. She listens to his heart beating and it gives her the answers she’s after. He tells her of a thousand things, but she knows he won’t be there to see them through. Tears start to well in her eyes; flowing from the Well of Love. It’s the same place where the deep scar of this love will remain. The tears roll down her face. Nothing will ever be enough anymore. This was the dream that has been crushed. He lifts her face up towards his. He smiles his knowing smile. His eyes glisten too but they can never fathom the pain he’s caused. He’s too caught in the pain of his previous lost love

They move slowly, like they’ve been moving for a thousand years together. She clasps his shirt, pulling it tighter.

They keep turning.

Their bodies swaying to the gentle guitar.

He knows it can’t last.

She knows too.

They turn faster, maybe if they move fast enough it won’t happen.

But

It has to happen. There’s no other end to this.

The heart yearns for what it can’t have.

The glow of the moon has changed to the first rays of daybreak. The shadows are lighter, the burden is lifting. The orange and yellows start to seep through into the room. They hold each other tighter but they know it can’t be. They’re still turning. They’ll always be turning together. He kisses her forehead, her eyes that let a single tear escape. She looks down his legs are disappearing. She knows that now’s the time. She can’t handle the despair. Her soul screams ‘no’, but her mouth doesn’t move. He holds her tighter, clutching her hair, stroking that silky mane that he loved to play with one last time, inhaling the intoxicating vanilla scent that clings to her tresses. She’ll never wear that scent again or enjoy anyone else’s touch – his was pure. He keeps inhaling, holding her tighter, they keep turning; she grabs onto him, digging into his skin, not wanting to let go. The tears drenching his chest.

He fades.

He’s gone.

All she’s left with is the feeling of the last kiss on her forehead. She slinks to the floor. There’s to be no more meetings. She’s not his, and he’s not hers.

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Listen to love