You cover the moon,
with the tip of your finger,
so that the whole world
is swallowed in dark.
I cling to your arm,
shivering in this new cold world.
And you laugh,
beautiful and deep,
but somewhat maniacal,
as if your secret, evil dream
has always been to kill the light.
I feel your fingers,
clammy and rough,
against my leg.
I suck in a breath,
trying to calm
the dizziness,
the breathlessness,
that has plagued me since I first saw you.
It's not a good feeling,
but not so bad either.
It shocks me,
as if you took my hand,
and together
we jumped into a pile of snow
naked.
When I think of being naked with you,
I blush and thank all the stars in the sky
that you can't see me in the dark.
But then you look over,
and your evil grin fades.
The laughter slips from your eyes,
and you look at me,
just look and nothing more.
I hold my breath,
wait, wait, wait,
for something,
anything,
that tells me you love me
just as much as I love you.
But it's so hard to read your face.
We're opposites in that way;
you're so locked up.
I never know what you're thinking.
But you always seem to know my every thought,
because you nod,
and slowly lace your fingers through mine.
You pull me up,
walk over to the water,
and stop at the edge.
Without hesitating,
you leap forward,
letting out a whoop
and colliding with the glassy lake.
I freeze in shock;
the water sprays me like shards of ice.
But then I laugh,
and laugh and laugh.
I can't stop laughing.
Because you've shown me everything for once,
and it's so wonderful.
I strip off my jacket and kick off my shoes,
and then without waiting for my mind to catch up,
I run forward and plunge into the lake,
then swim forward,
following the sound of your laughter.