He asked me to write.

He asked me to write. We were sitting on the couch, locked into each other. There were still tears in his eyes. Our love filled him to the brim, you see; the tears were the salty excess of his joy. I was crying too, in my own way, chest heaving, hands frantically touching, memorizing, adoring. I cried because I felt as though I had been on the verge of losing him, this man I loved so dearly, only to open my eyes and find him still there, loving me as I loved him. What an exhilarating moment! I remember the feeling as my panicked self slowly melted into a sweeter calm. My head began to spin and my skin sang out to this beautiful man I called my love. Yes, I remember that moment quite vividly, the moment I simultaneously lost and found my other half. And oh the kisses. There were kisses too, of course.

“Write about us,” he said after one particularly wet embrace. “I would like that.”

“Yes,” I replied, “of course I will.”

I gave him a smile, stamping and sealing his request in a kiss. Still, my insides couldn't help but churn. Write about us? About him? There seemed to me an inherent danger in the act. To try and define something so powerful, so pure, well, it bordered on blasphemy. The Muslim world considers it heresy to print an image of Muhammad for fear of false worship, of turning something otherwise divine and beautiful into a man-made idol. I suppose I beheld similar fears.

And so the days went by, then the weeks, and I did not write about us, as I said I would. I thought about it, of course. Words would brush in and out of my head like fallen leaves: beautiful and inspiring, but difficult to contain. Funny thing about dry leaves: they simply refuse to stay in one place for very long.

It is winter now and yet the leaves just keep falling, in and then out again. Still, spring is just around the corner. Perhaps I will have better luck then. Maybe, when surrounded by growth and fresh beginnings, maybe then I will be able to write about us, like I said I would. But not yet, not today. No, no that would just be silly.