Bare Love

A harp cries its chords, plucking a bittersweet melody. It twangs my heart strings, unleashing their ache across the wide abyss. It is the lingering tune of a love’s flame, which once burned brightly in this small, tight space.

I stand in an empty room, which moans its creaks as my feet shift across its vacant space. Traces of warmth still surround me, sparking my bare, exposed skin. If I close my eyes, I can still feel the unraveling heat of his tender touch …

His love helped to pull the fractured, mosaic pieces of myself back together. Parts of myself I had discarded or left buried, somewhere under these weighted, creaking floorboards. In the fractured light, streaming in from the window, I would watch them radiate, as though they had been jolted wide awake from a deep, undisturbed sleep.

“Breathe, my love,” his voice was soft, his gentle caress welcome on my bare skin. In those precious moments of love, I could face the darkness. The alluring heat of his warmth, his acceptance of who I was, hummed its harp melody deep within my soul.

All that remains now are single harp chords, whose cries lash against the stark, empty air. It is a fog that smothers me with its abandonment and heavy silence. I cannot sleep or eat, my very bones aching to feel his presence in this room.

I am half dressed, stuck in the very moment that he left. His slouchy, red singlet clings to my skin, taunting me with its reminder of him.

My heart sags with sadness.

My towel is still wrapped around my waist as I had only just stepped out of the shower moments before I set eyes on him ...

Right there, he stood, silent and intense, all knowing of what was yet to be.

The room's old telephone rang, shaking our very cores within this starkly silent space.

He gazed into my eyes, rattled. Thick tension smeared the air, engulfing us.

It was time.

Reluctantly, he answered the phone, wrapping the chord around his fingers, pulling at the short strands of his black hair.

Finally, he ended the call and met my frazzled gaze, his face heavy with knowing.

Minutes passed as we stared into each other’s eyes. We both knew what future lay ahead. He caressed my cheek, pressed his warm lips firmly against mine. I could feel his heat, his surprisingly firm ground ...

And his desire to stay, right here, with me.

My heart raced with desperation. If only we could hold on to our time, to our existence in this room ...

And who we chose at our own wills, to be.

A great dizziness cast its spell over me. In my hazed state, the makeshift trimmings of the room ascended into the air. Harp strings plucked with madness as the cotton sheets and our stripped, undercover clothing, spun around us. Liars! A voice screamed inside me. You know this isn’t real, it has to end!

A single tear descends slowly down my cheek as the weight of loss finally overcomes me. The harp chords are long and sad now, making my body sway giddily.

I have sat with this deep, unrelenting sorrow for many long nights and days.

One thing I know is that there is a love truth, buried deep inside us. Time may tear its way through every moment, yet it will not rip love apart.

Jobs come and jobs go. My badge glimmers on the bare table top, reminding me of what I have become. There are only so many cases to solve and so many people to save.

Yet, that choice to stay put, to allow yourself to let go of your cover, is vital.

If I just stay here, right on this lonely, creaking floor board, reliving the very moment that he got that phone call.

That he met my knowing, wild gaze.

That he kissed me deeply, sending those harp strings soaring in my soul.

I can remember that love I felt, for those fevered nights, as the moon cast its magic spell on the stark floorboards.

That willingness I had to step out of my cover and submit myself to the heightened symphony of love.

That confidence I felt to just be me.

Hi Vocal Community,

It is so lovely to return to share a new short story. I am a professional author whose works are available globally. My writing is renown for its metaphysical presence. I use a range of genres to help build a relatable 'reality' for readers.

In this story, "Bare Love," a romance, I share what it is to feel the states, atmospheres and precious moments of love, even when its journey has ended.

I hope you enjoy the story - it is so lovely to share my work once more with the lovely Vocal Community, who I have learned so much from through time.

I wish all writers the best on their very own story journeys. Every writer's voice is unique and special in its own way - such an important thing that we all cherish and celebrate :)

Warm regards,

Susan Marshall.