Looking Moment

Published December 13, 2014 by M. Natalia Arocho

My body, hands talking how my mouth can’t.

The stroking of his cheek.

My arm wrapped around him.

My fingers tracing the invisible scars.

My head enjoying the music of his chest.


My head lifting.

To look at his face.


His. Face.

Noticing how his face,

so hard and protective,

gets soft. Vulnerable

as he sleeps.


So few times I get to look at him

and His face.

All grown and matured

now childlike and innocent

as he sleeps.


His. Face.

So few occasions where its close to mine

with distance between age, responsibility, time

But at night when he comes

I get to look

as he sleeps.


I stare and take him all in;

feel my own face,

unreadable, a mask of sarcasm and amusement,

becomes an open window

full of emotion.


Curious, at the difference in our faces.

Tender feelings of warmth, caring for the hidden innocence,

fear of those hidden feelings behind these masks,

masks we both hide behind.

A precaution, reminding us not to do anything we can’t take back.


And as the sun begins

to rise as well, so doe he.

So do our masks

And my moment to look




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