The Canvas of Love

I lit the cigarette and blew the smoke in the air as I looked over the person lying beside me. There was a smile etched on his somber face as he slowly breathed in and out. It was half past twelve and the traffic outside my window had lessened. I listened for any source of noise, even a single horn blowing in the distance but there was none. The silence hung over our sweaty bodies bathing us in its serenity. Silence after an passionate hour is always welcome and I smiled to myself as I burnt out my cigarette. He was still beside me, now snoring softy, his breath coming in continuous rasps and I thought back to an hour ago, when the both of us were grunting and moaning in pleasure.


I am twenty one years old and I am single. I have always been proud of this status but I know for a fact that my life without occasional sex held no worth to me. I remember him slowly undressing me as he planted soft kisses on my cheeks and blew into my ear, his tongue making crop circles on my face. His hands slowly slid down to my waist and held me close to him, making me want more. We kissed for a long time, our lips writing songs against each other and our hands making music only lovers could hear. We didn’t have time for smiles or for staring into each other’s eyes. Those things happened in television anyway.

We hurriedly undressed each other and got into bed. You see, passion is always hurried, it’s not soft knocking on each other’s doors but sneaking into windows. What good would Romeo and Juliet be if there was no sneaking? We made love for an hour straight. There was no talking, no whispering, no murmuring. Just us and the noises we made through gritted teeth. His body was my canvas for tonight and nothing was going to stop me from making art more beautiful than Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa. This was art I was making for myself. Art I have always longed to make as I brew hot coffee on gloomy, rainy mornings.


After the hour was finished only three words were uttered. “You are amazing.” I smiled. I knew I was. And here we were, his chest slowly heaving and falling to the silent rhythms in his body. It was a dance only the both of us could comprehend. And as I switched off the lights to cuddle up beside him, I heard a single horn in the distance from my eleventh floor window, breaking the magic spell.


It was time to move on.



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