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ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

Drabbles in Threes V
By pdt_bear

I. 191 words in total; 172 words inside the prompts

We were butterflies in the sun, drunk with light. The days begin with quiet and cool breezes against the early morning calm. Treasuring each breath taken as time slips into the past in an unconscious pattern. Only when she speaks does the silence get broken -- a low rumble that is heard more by the vibrations against an ear plastered to the chest than by anything that actually hangs in the moment. There is a second conversation that takes place entirely by touch -- tracing random patterns against soft flesh that is slowly bared to a sleepy gaze.

There is a sharp breath that signals that the gentle teasing has changed in nature, and any further taunting of the resting dragon might garner a quick snap and then bite -- a bit more excitement than bargained for. What ever happens, this occasional ritual of sharing the morning in wordless play is followed by the peace offering of searing hot coffee that's managed to find itself placed on side tables after a mincing run on cold steps down to the kitchen and back. Softly, we landed on a bed of crumbs and coffee.

II. 192 words in total; 179 words inside the prompts

I whispered my goodbye to the sunset-makers. Knowing that the disappearing warmth was only a loss made tangible by the cool gaze that might have burnt scorching hot at some other time. It was hard not to quail under the sharp center of the gaze that dissected and discarded so much as not being 'good enough.' Yet this long silence spoke to the anger that lay heavy between us. As hard as it is to imagine that in the middle of another heat wave, I can wholly believe myself to be suffering under icy anger that freezes everyone and every word that struggles to form itself in my mind. Ironic that my skill with words has withered on the vine when it comes to her. Perhaps it is best that I not try to talk myself out of this quagmire -- to not make a bad situation worse.

Even though the thread count of these sheets probably number into the millions, and everything about the room is meant to provide calm sanctuary against the demons of the day, sleep will be slow to arrive this night. And already it's the day after.

III. 143 words in total; 126 words inside the prompts

A lover's alphabet falls from your lips. My ears hear every word, but their meaning passes me by as if spoken in a language imbued with meanings that I've never learned. I cannot even mouth the words back out loud, as if giving them voice would also give them meaning that I did not yet believe, and you would see through the facade as easily as pulling back the veil.

I am rendered defenseless by the unspoken plea for something so uncertain and fleeting as a feeling. As if a feeling was any guarantee against the vagaries of life. Would it not make more sense to trust in the actions that try their best to comfort you as to how I might feel even if it is something that would remain forever undefined? Already you've taught me what it is to be unadorned.

The End

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