Six Feet Under the Stars

I wanted nothing else but to lie down right next to you under the stars and talk about the universe and all its wonders. That was one of those rare times that I wished time stops. And although in reality it didn't, I still felt like it did. Like our world was frozen for awhile and we were separated from the actual world. We were unaware of everything else except us. It felt like suddenly the two of us were inside this world—like a big dome where the night sky is decorated with plenty of stars and the waxing gibbous moon. In front of us, the waves are kissing the shore and make such ethereal sounds; I remember the salty smell of the ocean in the air; the feel and warmth of the sand on our toes and on our backs; the cool breeze kissing our skins and sending goosebumps all over-- as if your presence isn't enough to give me those.

The conversations we had felt like it could go on forever and I wouldn't get tired. You pointed out to me the Orion and the Dipper and tried to imagine the Aurora in the Maldives beach where there are lots of planktons that illuminate the water. And then we started reminiscing the six years. Then came apologies. Your dreams, my dreams. The plans, the inside jokes. Your songs, my songs. Your pain, my pain. Fears, mistakes, our idiosyncrasies. Your scars, my scars. Your stories and my stories back from the time when we were still together and the time when we were living separately.
It was the kind conversation where you strip down everything and bare yourself naked in front of someone hoping that the other person would take it all in.
I did.
You did.

I wonder if the Universe has planned this all along. Like did the stars conspired for this moment? I think the moon kept it secretly.

I love this moment.
I love you.
Only you.