another guitarfilled night

Late night yesterday, not enough sleep and way to much wine. I knew that the morning would be rough, Wednesdays are always early mornings. We stayed up and he played me tunes on his guitar. His curls fell down before his eyes when he leaned forward, he's so intense when he plays. His whole body kind of shakes a little bit. He concentrates and wrinkles his forehead. 


We sat like that for hours, sometimes he glanced at me, a little smile, then he continued to play. Like all other nights, our guitar filled nights. After a bottle of wine, he starts to sing. Quietly. Almost whispering. After two bottles, he doesn't care anymore and his voice grow stronger, fills the room with every inch of him. If we continue, he'll take me in his arms and he tries to get me to play with him. But then I'm already too drunk..


When the guitar is asleep and there's nothing but silence we lay down. His bed, a mattress directly on the floor. Just enough room for us both. White smoke rise against the ceiling, candles are creating shadows on the walls. Normally I'd be scared and my imagination would fill my head with all sorts of weird hallucinations. The shadows are always a man with an umbrella. But with him, I feel more safe than ever. Maybe that's why I always fall asleep first when we share the same bed.