More than Sex

When I asked her,

‘what do you like more – day or night, dawn or

dusk, she replied, ‘I like them

both equally. But I’d prefer the one

that lets me be with you’.

 

I paused for a second and thought – loving her during

the day meant killing her alarm clock before it killed us both, at times

watch her glued to her phone while I did nothing in particular,

running my palm over hers while driving,

maybe even hurriedly making out before the kids came home, our evening tea, Paris – our Labrador’s

evening walk, the sight of her face after she returned home

from work, the way she took off and placed her shoes exuding the

smells of city, sweat and a longing for her cup of tea,

she telling me ‘don’t dog-ear the book, use my hair band

as bookmark!’ and maybe

a few scraps of a normal we thought

would remain special,

forever.

 

While night time love meant kissing the kids

goodnight, reading ourselves separately to sleep, doing the

dishes while she cleared the table, often letting go

of the certainty of love-making for the intimacy

of a conversation, discussing the impending house loan,

her father’s health, my mother’s fight with Varicose veins, holding

her tightly on certain nights,

and few scraps of a normal we thought

would remain special,

forever.

 

After all these years, I still

can’t tell which of the two

I’d prefer.

 

But since I have lived both, I can only

hope, and hope well that

I have loved them both

 

equally.

the-kiss-19081

Gustav Klimt, The Kiss, 180 * 180 cm, Belvedere, Vienna, Austria 

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