Love and cowardice; friends till the end.

I woke up with the smell of her hair in my nostrils. She had cuddled into me during the night, head tucked into the burl of my shoulder. Her hand resting softly on my ribs. I watched it rise and fall with the motion of my chest, a blade of light skating to and fro over the polished nails. Hazy smells of Eucalyptus and night grease, a steady motion of breath; in then out, the air rhythmically cresting on my cheek; a vaporous kiss. If time could freeze right there I'd have stayed a lifetime, but time is unrelenting. From one side the love is unrequited, agonizing. From the other, plutonic, almost kin-like. The most fearsome demons that visit me are silent moments, still reflections. They are the motes of dust falling through the light that cascades in through the crack in the curtain. The only fear is that now is so very fleeting, and yet every second holds within it a truer smile than should otherwise form on my lips. The best defence is to discard this now, walk away from this impossible embrace and cast the joyous miasma aside. Tea, toast and time alone instead.