At one in the morning I am sitting in my backyard. My bare feet, a cigar between my fingers. One inhale, one exhale. And another and another. I can feel my muscles slowly relax with each breath. I find a calming pleasure in the sting on my tongue and the sweetness on my lips. Of watching the soft, white tendrils of smoke swirl up into the purple-blue night sky. Towards the few stars I can see. The moon is hidden behind a hazy veil of clouds, and looms behind the trees, yellow and distant. I sit there until I am done, and until a chill sets into my body, seeping into my skin. Everything looks so different in the dark.
In the dark I feel his body underneath mine. His lips and fingers coaxing me towards him, further and further I go. The scruff of his beard and the soft feel of his sweater. The smoke of the bonfire still lingers in his hair and clothes, and I can taste the liquor on his lips. We all went from standing in the dark of a field, but with one instant of light and color and sound, the darkness was replaced by tremendous heat and light, and we were all visible again. Smiling faces, bright eyes, so many voices. How nice it feels to have someone underneath me, their hand resting on the small of my back. Sometimes in my bed I lie on my side in the dark and I spread out my arms and my legs and close my eyes and silently wish for someone to be there. Our limbs laced together. Soft breath on my neck. Because we are all alone in this world, and we all search for someone that will fit into us, something natural and complete. I find it hard writing about (my) loneliness. Maybe loneliness is the someone that fits into me. It does feel natural.
But the light came and I sat on the front porch beside the lilac bush. Its sweet scent wafted towards me in the cold, wet air and there I sat, draped in all my insecurities. I watched the horses in the field across the road run, graceful and free. I could watch them forever in that misty morning air, with the foxes running the grass and the lilacs blooming around me.