Perhaps it is the curve of her hips in those tight jeans that makes the boy want to hold her against him again late at night as the wind turns colder. That bitter nip in the air makes the boy regret leaving her loving arms and realize just how much he lost in letting her go. The snowflakes glide gently to the ground like her tears did months ago when he didn’t care to watch.
Time and trips to the local coffee shops have mended what once was torn of her paper heart.
Time and house parties with one girl after the next have slowly torn his open.
Past the walls he had built against her, lies what could have been, and it is crushing. She spent months trying to piece together a ladder of her own strength to peer over the ledge, only to fall back down to the ground with an unsatisfying thud where he was supposed to catch her.
When the distracting noise of the day quiets to let the lonely silence of night slip over the world, he cries for her–her body pressed against his and the way her hands used to search for his in the dark. How hollow it must feel to fall asleep without the warmth of a lover who would have made him her world.
She buys that little white dress with such hope for the places she may go in it, the handsome men that will kiss her in it, and the rainstorms she will dance through. She never imagined the rain would turn to a deadly storm that she would be trapped in.
The see-through cotton clutches to her body as the wind rises and the rain pours harder. A summer of loving turned bitter as these storms of fall roll through. She never knows when she steps into his arms if the sun will shine and he will gently brush the straps from her shoulders, or if his thunder is going to shake her bones as she stands shivering in that thread bare gown.
Instead of the wild romance she had dreamt of, this was a roller coaster she was now locked into. Little did anyone know, she was ready to leap from that ride, even if it meant staining that tiny white dress red.
Everyone finds something to make the world stop for a second. For some, it’s drugs or booze, but mine would be you. That feeling of having you this close makes it hard to believe there is a world outside turning. Every single motion is in slow motion, and I can feel you on a plane beyond the physical. I can feel your soul touch mine in the way you look at me with those wise chocolate eyes.
My god those eyes.
Breathing in and out with you has become a sensual experience. You can’t seem to hide how much you feel for me despite all that trying. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen so much in one pair of eyes. I think I could love those eyes as well as the boy they accompany more deeply than you could imagine.
There is no urgency about this thing we have going which makes it perfection. A steady hunger for your presence always draws me back–I crave the light you bring to my eyes. Here in the summer heat of this apartment with the upstairs neighbors rap music thumping the ceiling, I feel my heart give way. Please fall with me because, my dear, it’s terrifying and wonderful. Your face in my fingertips and your eyes on mine crumble every one of my defenses. I’m yours.
I wanted to go home, to you, to that bed we never want to leave, today. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up or if I even should. Even you tell me this is bad. You can see the nightmare that comes next while I am still so caught up in the mirage. You tell me I glow when I see you.
I FUCKING GLOW.
What the hell? I am so angry! I am angry at myself for letting you in, for letting this get this far, for letting this be no different from every other time. I am angry at the way the world works. Here I am, fully ready to love someone, to make every day about making them smile, and it hands me a guy that has to walk away. Really? After you tell me you have feelings for me?
Don’t you know silly boy that saying frivolous things like that only makes my heart melt?
It is far easier to pretend like I am utterly un-phased when you are doing the same, so why you would break pattern and admit something like that is beyond what I can reason. Every single tender moment is like a knife to a heart I thought had mended. You are different and the same from every other man, but I woke up this morning knowing in my very toes that I could fall in love with you.
If you asked me, I would.
I am terrified two months is too long, yet too short to let you in and let you go in what will most likely be at the very same moment. Don’t ask me to go back; because, Honey, it’s a one way ride. Just be sure you understand that no matter how many times I bat my eyes and promise I can handle this, I will never stop wanting more with the full knowledge that it is entirely impossible.
Night slips over the day like a billowing sheet settles upon a crisp mattress. Little drops of the heavens sprinkle my tired face, and I breathe in the now wet earth. You lace your hand in mine and lead me away from the perfume of the rain to a room aglow with tiny flickers. A faint smile finds its way to my lips as you offer me a glass of sweet white wine because you remembered it was my favorite. You’re looking at me expectantly, maybe because I am honestly taken aback by this overt display of care and affection.
This is not what you wanted; you knew it’s what I needed.
With that sweet, spring breeze drifting across my naked back, the buzz of sugary wine on my lips, and the quiet electricity of your fingers across my skin; my lips seek yours like an unquenchable thirst and my hands daintily search you body for the desires awakened in my own. It has been so long since anyone has held me that way–I want these moments to drag into eternity.
Three more months of a a halfway not-quite-in-love tangle of sheets.
I told you I couldn’t stay. Then you touch me with such subtle, tender hands, I have no memory of those words that left my mouth so resolute just mere moments before. This night and the way our bodies are moving together as one are a part of those things I hope to remember as I rock slowly back and forth on a front porch swing with the night drifting ever so gently over the warmth of the day.
I woke up early this morning and watched you sleep with hazy, happy eyes. The steady rhythm of your breathing is keeping time as the birds greet the morning sun peeking her face through a frosty window.
–I could get used to this–
Your face is so soft in this moment, empty of worry or questions or expectation, you just lay there as free thoughts stumble through your mind. I can’t help but wonder if I am there too in ways similar to how you’ve infected my dreams. I sweep the hair from your forehead and kiss so tender it doesn’t wake you from those dreams.
I ache for your gentle hands to caress my cheeks the way they did the night my tears spilled over. Look at me the way you did with that longing for connection that goes deeper than how your body moves so well with mine.
You wake up with a sweet, small smile, and I whisper faintly, “Good morning,” when my heart is screaming to say so very much more. No, not having feelings was never going to work with a boy like you, were they, because here I am longing to be everything you could ever dream while you do, but I’ll just lay here and smile because this moment is magic.
Preach to me not of the stars,
for they are the ones that dried my tears
after every boy before you,
and whispered sensational dreams
into a heart left empty.
They saw all the love in my eyes
just waiting to be given
and accepted it with a soft embrace.
Yes, boy–they are romantic.
They call down,
“Only I have loved you”
as we take this frigid walk under their light.
Preach to me not of the stars,
for they were there
when this little girl’s fragile heart was born
and they will be here
long after you stop holding this hand.