Thursday, March 16, 2017

five o'clock a.m.

In this moment before dawn the birds are tweeting, when I’m already able to divine if the sky will be clear or overcasted by clouds, a conveying picture of my breath in the cold late winter air. It’s so silent, and everything in me is still loud of the bass of a night of nonstop dancing, I know I’m screaming, no matter how sober I am, but my heart is racing and my eyes are sparkling and the sweat on my skin lets me freeze a little bit, but basically I’m hardly feeling the cold.

The cold stone wall on my back, your hot body in front of me, my heart is beating the same beat like mine, ours together are boom boom-ing like the bass in the club behind the wall holding us. There’s nothing like public at five o’clock a.m., in this hour before the sun rises and a new day begins, in this hour, before one recollects, activates your brain again, all these things are immaterial at five o’clock a.m.

Slowly your hands are cutting out the sound of taxi wheels on the wet street, the drunk shouts recede into the distance and I forget that we’re strangers, because you feel so familiar. I’m feeling wide awake in this moment when heat and cold are colliding between us in this one hour in the half-dark, when you’re drunk of alcohol, of a night of dancing, of sleep loss, when you’re not capable of thinking, and don’t want to.

Five o’clock a.m., I’m free.

I’m awake like never before and tired as I wasn’t a long time, my thoughts stop spinning. I’m spreading my naked arms, indifferent how cold it is, tilting my head back and laugh, because life offers these hours for me. Hours in the dawn, thoughtless, conscienceless, noisy and intense. Real and free. Until I close the door behind me and everything becomes silent.

As realize I forgot to ask for your name, I smile.

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