the guy with a spotless moon

“Beautiful moon,” he said. She looked at the crescent moon, and said,” Yeah, but I wish it's a full moon.” “What do you mean? I can see the whole moon, and it's spotless,” he then replied. She then tried to take a good look at the moon, wondered how he could see the rest of it while she couldn’t. “What are you doing?” He asked, smiling, “ I was talking about this moon in front of me.” She blushed. And He smiled. Happy to know that he somewhat has succeeded to disturb her instill heart.

There they sat. In the sofa. In the dim moonlit living room in her apartment. With the whole city in the background as the quiet audience. And the crescent moon dangling low in the dark velvet night sky glittered with stars. Looking into each other’s eyes. Trying to find traces of themselves in each other. Traces that they might have left before they come to live on this earth. Traces that they might have left for each other to find, and recognize, and realize that they belong together. A forgotten sign. You never remember you have, or when you had lost it, until you find it. A girl’s in a guy. A guy’s in a spotless moon.

With the stars watching, blinking one eye, smiling, he starts his journey on finding the traces in her. A hunt for hidden treasure. A sign. Of a long-lost lover. He searches with his eyes. His lips. His skin. His senses. He searches on her eyes. Her lips. Her long dark silky hairs. In the pulses of her stretched neck. Like a blinking indicator that he can push to open a door. He runs his fingers on her pale skin. A bit cold, and shaky, like an inexperienced bomb tamer. Eyes to eyes. Then closed together. Lips to lips. Skin to skin. Two silver threads in a paradise island, coiled and intertwined together in a cool night sea breeze. And the moon dangling low in the sky.

She has always loved him. And hated him at the same time. She loves the way he makes her feel so helpless in his arms. She loves him for making her see the colors in life. She loves the feelings only he can make her feel. But she hates him for making her afraid of what she’d be thinking when she’s with him. Of how she would be feeling when he’s with her. Of how she loses control of herself by looking at his eyes. By kissing him. Touching him.

He is not a complete stranger to her. Nor someone she’s known her lifetime. They have just met when he made a lame excuse just to get her telephone number. Then he started calling. ‘What a waste of time’ she usually thought whenever he called her. Then he stopped calling. And she missed him. She didn’t understand why.

When they met again coincidentally, she felt so lucky she had her sunglasses on. She knows he can reach her through her eyes. Deep within and tickles the bottom of her heart. Though the butterflies in her stomach still flipping about, carrying the wind that brought back the gust of the past. She missed him. She hated him. She was afraid. But delighted.
Then a meeting became a date. Followed by another one. And another one. And before she knows it, there they are. In a sofa. In a dim moonlit living room of her apartment. With the moon, and the stars. A guy, and a spotless moon.

The moon is reaching the horizon any time now when the two lovers are back from their quick visit to the mahadevas’ palace. “Can I kiss him just once more?” she’s looking deep into his eyes. And he’s kissing her, caressing her. Down on her long pale stretched neck. So they’ve found their traces on each other. On every bits and pieces of their existence. And she loves him. And he loves her. Just as much. Not even a little less. She stays his spotless moon forever…..