Take Me With You

I've been here, my love. Watching, waiting. I've wanted to come to you, but I can't seem to break free of these wrought iron bars. You must have looked upon my face at least a hundred times these last few months, yet your face never once lit up for me. Not the way I know mine does for you. It's like you didn't recognize me anymore.

I'd almost given up hope, nearly accepted a life devoid of love and the warmth of your smile. But finally, you approach, stepping leisurely, a twinkle shining brightly in your eyes. I shudder in glorious anticipation, awaiting the softness of your touch. At long last, I can stop wondering why you've stayed away for so long and think of other - more pleasant - things.

Like the day we first met. You were sunbathing in a pink bikini. I distinctly remember how you glistened in the afternoon sunlight. How beads of sweat slid down the gentle hills and sloping valleys of your backside like morning dew drops on cool summer mornings. Your dark hair seemed spun from threads of mulberry silk. Your skin was smooth, intoxicating - rich and supple, like warm cocoa butter.

Falling in love with you was as easy as breathing. I gave you a pink flower because you said it was your favorite color, and I thought it looked pretty in your hair. I never looked back. I opened myself up to you, as I have done so many times these past few months. Back then, though, you never ignored me. I never felt the sting of your cold shoulder, never wondered if you loved me, never questioned whether our love would last until even the angels of heaven turned to so much dust in the wind.

Then came the day we were forced to separate. We knew the toll war had taken on our country but somehow didn't think we'd ever be personally affected by it. How foolish we were then, but that's the folly of youth, isn't it? We think we're immortal, our bodies and hearts safe from the darker corners of the world, until life yanks us up by the hair and kicks us into its bloody march. Even so, we were scared, you more than me, I think, but I promised I'd come back to you, and you promised you'd wait for me.

There were nights I spent shivering in darkness, days when I thought the sun would leave me a smoking ruin in the sand. I watched friends cry for their mothers and held men as they wept for lost limbs or lives. I told some of my brothers they would be fine even as their blood gushed from wounds not even God could heal. I often dreamt of the crack of gunfire, the terrible sound of explosions, and the grinding squeal of tanks as they roamed the desert. Most of all, I dreamt of the screams of fallen men, some of them friends, others allies, and some the enemy.

But sometimes I dreamt of you, too. I'd see you walking among the villas at the base of our mountain home, your form seeming to glow as the sun kissed the peaks. I dreamt of your laugh and the way your breath quickened in my ear when I entered your body for the first time. I dreamt of your scent, lilac and honey, and how marvelous your lips tasted when pressed against my own. These dreams got me through the worst of it, I think.

I don't remember being sent home, but I do remember a time before the end, when I thought I'd never see you again. I'd done a perimeter patrol. It was dark, and the moon was new. I'd thought I'd heard a sound from just outside the wire and went to investigate. We'd been told not to wonder, but I guess I wasn't really thinking. They say landmines click when you step on them, but mine didn't. I remember scanning the area with the flashlight, and next, I recall lying facedown in the sand. There was some sense of pain, but it was vague and far away. I thought if I was going to die, I wished I could be with you one last time.

Now you're reaching for me, and it all seems worth it. Your touch is gentle; its caress brings me to the brink of ecstatic bliss. I'm stretching for you, but I can't break free of this prison that holds me. You lean in, though, and take in my scent. Your smile liberates my spirit. There's a flash of white pain - a sense of tearing loose from another part of myself - but it's gone before I can take note of it, and I am finally free in body as well.

The world is beginning to darken, but I'm at peace with it. You bring me close once more. I feel the softness of your lips and a tickle from your nose. Then the world swims dizzyingly, and I am thrust gently into the silk-like folds of your raven hair. You always did love pink.

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A/N: This story was written for Mackenzie Davis' Ekphrastic Challenge Part 2. Thank you to the wonderful Donna Fox for providing the photo. I hope you enjoyed it, and I am positive that the other stories written for it will be fantastic. Please check it out below: