Ten Minutes of Writing, Unedited

I want to get out of bed, I want to try to be productive for the first time in a long time, but Bez’s sleeping body holds me still, and I can’t look away. I always do have trouble getting up when there’s someone beside me in bed, and it’s even worse when it’s Bez who is doing it.

She inspires me to create, and at the same time she can so easily make me toss aside my plans and be content doing nothing at all beyond being in her company. I’m assuming this is love, or some strange form of it. Nikola makes me want to put on my shoes and go with him for a walk through the park. Bez makes me want to crawl under the blankets with her and not leave for a week.

She was right when she called me complicated.

Just now, I spent an entire minute not writing, instead just staring at Bez while she sleeps beside me. Shall I tell you about her? Can I even put her into words which would reveal even the tiniest fraction of her to you? It would be impossible to do, in the next six minutes before I set aside this writing. I can tell you superficial things: the mole on her belly, three inches to the left of her navel; the way her dark hair falls across her face and trembles with each soft breath she exhales as she sleeps; the ring shaped like a frog that she wears on her finger that I bought for her last birthday, that I’ve never seen her take off.

Those are the easy things to tell you. The others take more time than I have now to tell, and I doubt that I could get them right anyway. Words are all I have, and sometimes those are not enough.

Three minutes left in my self-assigned writing exercise, and I’m not going to spend them using any words. Instead, I am going to put this pen away, lay my head back on the pillow, put my face in front of hers, and inhale her exhalations.

Then I am going to put my lips against hers and kiss her until she wakes up.

Then we are not going to get out of bed for a while.

There will be time for walks in the park another day.

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