I just have this big desire to drink with you and play you lots of music

Let’s just sit on your bed, I’ll pour the wine. You have lots of clothes, don’t you? Do you have two glasses? I brought red so we don’t have to keep going to the fridge.You pick a song. I haven’t heard this one. I like it. How easy it seems to write the perfect song. This song just makes sense, it must’ve been so easy. Let me pick a song. This one’s fun, have you heard it? Some of the words are really funny. It’s a good chorus, isn’t it? I have this song in my head at least once a day, I think. How do you like the wine? It’s okay, isn’t it. Your turn. Oh yes, I know this one, my friend sent me this one a long time ago. I didn’t like it at first but then I realised how good it was. Yes, he was just a friend, nothing ever happened between us. I never speak to him now. I don’t know what we’d talk about. Would you like more wine? It’s quite nice, isn’t it? Here’s a song. I think you’ll like this one. It reminds me of that moment after dinner around the table with friends when everyone has said how delicious the food was and wine is sipped and fingers skim the rims of wine glasses and there is a moment that is like a sigh but it’s silent and all-encompassing and everyone is content as they anticipate the rest of the evening and the rest of their lives. That’s what it reminds me of. I think you’ll like this one.

How nice it would be to stay up all night until it’s light again outside. Just to drink and talk and listen until we come to the end of a song and hear the dawn chorus and we realise how tired we are.

The light begins to creep through the blinds, making a pool of warmth on the end of the bed. It illuminates one of my feet. You go to tell me when you realise my eyes are closed and my breathing is soft. You want to wake me and say it would be best if I go home, but I look so peaceful, and content, at last.

You turn over and close the lid of your laptop. Then you turn back to face me and close your eyes too. But you won’t think about me and you won’t think about us. You won’t watch me sleep. You’ll just think about all the things I’ve said and all of that music and the drops of red wine staining the glass.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s