tessellating

The way the clouds were in the sky that first day we met; they were gliding so slowly at first neither of us were sure they were actually moving at all. But then we looked down, and when we looked back, they were subtly different. ‘Look,’ you pointed. ‘The pieces are jagged, but they fit together wonderfully.’ The clouds were ringed, illuminated, there was just the right amount of sunlight, as if an angel was behind them somewhere pushing them slightly closer to the Earth.

We were lying on the grass, it springy beneath our curled spines, taking breaks from gazing at the glittering sky to memorizing the different colours in each other’s eyes. Our breaths were frequent, matched, my body rose and fell at the same time as yours. The moment I looked up to the sky and was shocked by a sudden recognition of the stars gradually falling into place, the constellations forming right in front of me.

Our bodies, together that final night we spent camped out in your backyard. You were shivering from the cold and I held you close, watching our breath rising in small puffs. We lay entwined until the sun woke us in the morning, our bodies fitting together comfortably, our legs merged.

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