Just 5 more minutes

"Time is of the essence."

I don't even know what that means. I just know time is continually laughing at me. Even as I write this, in the wee hours of the morning, time knows it can manipulate me however it wants to...and it wants to.

In 2.5 more hours, he'll knock on my door. He'll step inside to the darkness, not out of purpose, but out of necessity. We'll stare at the stars beyond this plaster and paint and talk about nothing...something, but nothing as important as the moments to follow.

He'll pull me close to him, and for the longest time, we'll just breathe to the rhythm of our heartbeats. I wish he could read this right now, I wonder if he'd say I'm romanticizing it...a funny thought. In time, he'll face me, and softly, gently, we'll learn the way that we (he and I as an entity) like to share passionate kisses. We learn quickly, adapting, evolving, changing from gentle to forceful, but still beautiful. We'll do this in variations until McDonald's has stopped serving breakfast. But we don't need food. We are full from the sunrise.

We've untangled ourselves, and I'll look over at his bare back, his beautiful body actually laying next to mine, half-clothed, half-asleep, maybe even half in this reality. I'll smile because he is here, and later, when I have thoughts of conspiracy, I'll try to remember that smile. Seconds, minutes, hours later, he pulls his once crisp shirt over his beautiful brown torso. He'll walk to the door, me watching all the time, not knowing the ettiquette for this...

He'll look back and wave, and I'll smile goodbye at him. He trips over the rug on the way out, and I giggle, glad to know that he is still real, still human, actually three-dimensional.

When I think about it, I probably do romanticize it - the fact that we took our time, there was no harsh anything (unless we made it that way) not language, not feelings, not physical contact. It was more raw than anything. Undisturbed, unprocessed passion. Did I send signals that were too strong? Was I just another addition to his collection? Will I be okay if he never speaks to me again? Was it a conspiracy? Then, I remember my smile, and how he put it there, and whatever the effect, I was, am, maybe even will be down for the cause.

Five more minutes, and I would've done...I would've said...I would've...

Maybe next time.