Voices off

Voices off you said. I was trying to control my breath when those words came out. I tried to ignore it for one moment. I was moving again when those powerful eyes looked at me. With seriousness, you repeated: voices off! I stopped. I was intrigued, confused. I wanted this for so long, and you said the worst possible combination of words. I didn't understand.

Could you feel it? You asked in the soft tone that drives me crazy. Feeling what? I asked confused, trying to kiss your shoulder again. Could you feel the silence? You repeated intrigued. Could you feel the silence? I asked, annoyed because it would not end well. How could you feel the silence? I ask in a challenging tone, convinced that the last bottles of wine have been a total waste.

Feel! You said while taking my hand into your breast (we are going back to interesting stuff, I thought). What do you think? It says my name, I answered with no hope. Maybe, you said while your eyes were holding just in front of mine. Maybe not, you said again to cool down the situation. 

Now feel this one, you told me while moving your hand into my chest. What do you feel there? Using my poker face for concentration, I realised what she meant. It does feel nothing. Wait, am I alive? I asked scared about what she discovered. You're breathing, she answered quite sure of the moment. Yes, but what is this. I replied, totally freaking out. 

This is what happens when men just fuck me, she said. They feel that moving in and out so fast is enough. They think touching this, and touching that will please me. The wise ones even trust in respectable anatomy publications that indicate the centimetres between one point and another, and they follow recipes like they were cooking a cake. Just two cups of this, two shakes of that and you'll be done. They think they have the right music, but after a while is gone.

They don't listen to the music, she said almost crying. They don't look at the heart, they don't feel me for more than once. By that moment I was utterly dismayed by the crazy girl I invited to my home, but I answered without hope, and how you fix it? It cannot be fixed she said disappointedly. Should be some trouble with myself, she said totally disappointed. The tears stuck out.

Everything can be fixed, I said. It's about of trying. She looked at me like the sun was rising again at lunch time we were naked in my bed. Come! She said to my lips while trying to kiss me. And it felt good, more tender than the thousands of kisses before. You feel? I barely answered while continued kissing her. Just the lips, she said, when I was moving to her wonderful neck to smell her perfume. Just kiss me with your five senses. Just taste their flavour while you feel every detail of the skin, while you smell my breath, while you look into myself, while you listen the sound of both together. 

It was absurd but working. I was listening to our kiss, looking to herself, smelling her air, feeling all the details of her skin, tasting every flavour of her. And we moved, and we moved again. And every part of her body was alive, and each centimetre was feeling different. And we followed our senses until we were lost in time until we surpassed the limits. 

And one night it came to me...

Voices off I said... My heart was telling her name, her heart stopped beating.