words don't express my meaning

i had a dream last night that we were in an old, empty house together, exploring. it was unnervingly quiet, but when we spoke it didn't echo. instead our words were muffled by the peeling wallpaper, by the exposed fibre glass insulation, by the ancient breezes our movements made, stirring dust. our words would leave our mouths but drop nearly instantly to the floor. you took to speaking very close to my ear so that your meaning would not be lost to the filmy light straining through the dirty windows. this light would make rectangular patches of the hardwood floors glow, but did not reflect, did not expand, and so most of the house remained in shadow, even though it was mid-day.

i wandered up the main staircase to the second floor while i listened to you rattling around in the back of the house, maybe in the kitchen. were you, was i planning on buying the place? why were we here? i couldn't remember. the stairs were silent, the floorboards did not creak. i felt grains under my hand as i slid my palm up the warm wooden bannister and looked back to see i'd left a long thick gleaming trail in the dust. all the doors on the second floor were closed and the hallway was dark. still, i was not afraid.

i rounded a corner and you surprised me by appearing at the other end of the corridor. "secret stairs from the kitchen!" you explained, your eyes glittering in conspiracy. "how fun is that?" i grinned. "come with," you urged me, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards a narrow door that was nearly invisible in the wall.

we pulled it open. it was a landing, with the stairs that headed down to the kitchen on our right and stairs that led up to places unknown on the left. you pulled me left, behind you. it was narrow, so narrow my hips were making whispering noises against the walls as we took step after step. i noticed your shoes, your jeans, your belt, your ass. my body tensed up suddenly, in a thrilling way.

at the top there was another door but it was locked. you pulled a skeleton key from your pocket and slipped it into the keyhole. in a metallic rattling moment, the door swung open and i followed you in.

the attic was clean and bare, free of the dust that plagued the rest of the old house. against the wall under the circle-shaped window that looked out over the front yard was a large old cot made up with bohemian bedding, none of it matching. you turned and looked at me, breathless. i was not sure i understood. "what..." i said, about to put a voice to my questions. you stopped me with an unexpected kiss that was sudden and hurt my lips against my teeth...for a second.

but how could i stay uncertain in your embrace? how could i say no? if you're ready, i am. it's always been that way.

we laid on the bed. i was naked and goosebumps rose on my flesh. you gently covered me with a lightly scented flannel blanket, fresh soapsmell rising from the air beneath. afternoon was fading with every light kiss you placed on the tendons on my neck, on my collar bone. with every warm palm and each nervous, shuddering breath. i like the way the light looks in here, at this time, with the grey day fading to blue evening. i took what you gave; you took me.