Crash
We're up all night at your place. Your sheets are pulled tight across the mattress, white and pristine. I've never seen pillows so crisp except at a hotel. The comforter looks unused. There are no stains from an upset midnight snack or a spilled cup of coffee. I know it has been on your bed for at least a few months, it isn't that new. I can never imagine you sleeping here.
You sink into the bed and motion for me to join; so calculatedly casual. Your form rumples the perfect sheets. We've never been in this room together at night. Something in my chest constricts at the thought and I am immediately conscious of the breaths coming in and out of my too-small lungs.
Your smile is entrancing, the smile you wear all the time. But there's something silvery in it in the twilight. You are my sun and my moon. You are the light by day and the light by night. The stars all bow to you. I've never stared the moon in the face the way I do now. I'm so close, I could touch it. I would be the first woman to grace its surface. There have been women, but never any who drew so near.
I approach. I am well aware there is no atmosphere. I will not be able to breathe. But I have made it this far and cannot turn back. I have obliterated the lines and the barriers keeping me far away from this space, this celestial body disheveling the planes of my existence.
My heart counts the steps to your outstretched arms. Closer and closer to your embrace. There will be no controlled landing. I will crash the best I can. There will be no way out, no way back.
So, I surrender to the pull of your gravity.