thoughts   |    issue 010

midnight to morning rush

We’ve memorized the habits of each other’s homes that we’ve learned to weave through them according to our pleasures. It was a midnight to before 5:30 am run that arose. Right as our folks slept and right before they would stir awake to the rising sun. Any anomaly or special occasion is feared in where this routine may be interrupted.

But yesterday morning was different. I woke up in his arms without the need to jolt awake, scramble for my belongings, and slither out. It was really nice, even with my back slightly burning from the eastern sun that infiltrated the tempered glass panels right beside the bed; no curtains. A scorching reminder of how late in the day we were still in bed with no care. We drowned in rosé the night before with Nujabes swimming through our ears. We would wake up hazily, in and out from 7 am to 10 am and finally up the bed by 2 pm. There was a point when we looked long and longingly into each other’s eyes as our extremities were tangled with one another’s. We whispered about an eventual separation, one that was intensely inevitable. Tears fell from one eye, and then the other. He explicated the love he supposedly held for me way before I even began to notice him, as if to control and convince a jury, not really to me. He proclaimed a fourfold computation. I was more bemused than giddy, but I am thankful for this love. Every time I looked at this beautiful and endearing creature, I felt utmost love, yet a fragility threatened this, one of subversion and uncertainty. Somehow I knew I didn’t choose him the way I chose the others. And I can’t, I couldn’t choose him the way I want to, I have no right. 

Yet the day rolled on as together we soaked up in a cozy and warm bath of togetherness.  We love each other, he loves me more for sure, and as this love may soon burn out, it was a beautiful time.

 © 2018 by Ishka Mejia

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