I let a boy spend the night in my bed. There's probably lots of reasons I should refrain from thinking about him. I guess through him, I met or was reminded of traits in people I like and find attractive. Creativity, vision, careful, deliberate, strong willed, committed to deciphering one's own symbolic language, courage to let it unfold and stick to it's lessons. In addition, while being a bit of the dirty "hippy" type (he's really not a hippy), his deodorant smelled REALLY good, and it's scent is still on my pillow; the coconut oil he out in his hair still sits on the edge of the bed.
I don't care to memorialize particularly him in my bed; it's very clear to me that, until he finds someone who loves him unquestioningly, he will continue to stretch his legs across the road. (When he was in the same room, watching the way he used his body to speak to each thing fixed on his attention, I could swear I could hear the swell of wind under his feet, swear that I could feel a gentle gust roll across the floor where he stood; I swear I could hear him looking for clues in all moments)
To him, in every situation, the door is always open, the world is always calling.
But there were some moments in bed. In the dark.
When we laid face to face, before our first kiss; it was all friendly and kind words before, but in the night his hand rested on mine. My heart began to rush. If I was a werewolf, I would've transformed right then. I haven't felt like that in a long time; I forgot I could feel like that. I think that's the sweetness of our age (we are both born the same year, why is that an endearing detail to me?). The side of my head laying on the pillow felt very warm.
The kiss was exceptional! It felt smooth, I felt all of the words I thought it tried to say; I imagined it saying "this is who I am".
And then I felt him rushing, by something I didn't see, and the magic faded. And became memory.
Why do I have the urge to ask him? If he felt that too? Why does it matter?
The hardest lesson has been accepting the complicated circumstances that he is himself.
He is loving for truth, without any others terms. I guess that might be why it felt so sweet; what did he find in me so special to open such a door?
For days I wished I had any comparable gift to return to him. Almost as if to coax him to stay.
Though I know and I knew: he wouldn't. He won't.
Anyway, his scent is here. I step closer to a realized person, by identifying hear traits I can manifest and speak to... Maybe some I can supplement into myself. Maybe these smells can say "now you can remember how this feels".
