slightlysmiling
Walls can hold in what we cannot. If I could have you within four walls, the sky as the roof and the warm earth beneath our feet, space to lean up and kiss the apples of your cheeks, I would be blessed. But if I could not have you, give me four walls to hold me up, to contain an aching heart, and to keep me from collapsing with a single breath, like a dandelion past bloom.
We are in orbit - stubbornly, relentlessly circling one another. There is some gravitational pull between us that keeps us at this unyielding distance, a proximity we don't overstep. Oh, but it is wonderful still, to be circling this galaxy with you. All the stars within sight could not dare to dream of competing with you.
When I think of anywhere, I think of escaping. So anywhere becomes a safe haven - salvation or redemption. Take me anywhere. I'd go anywhere with you. It's a romantic sense of leaving and becoming a recluse in some wide-open space. Stripped of everything else that clutters the space you inhabit now, anywhere is the essential core of your soul.
Long ago, I studied the line of your face, the corners they met at, the shape of your jaw, the curve of your cheek. I used to study the way expressions melted across your face. I know it all by heart now. Can tell with my eyes closed.
Looking back, the warning was a challenge, a taunt. "Defy me," it sang. "Prove I'm not true. Prove you're better." But the warning was a sinful promise.
If someone says you're dense in reference to your lack of common sense, in reference to your inability to recognize the obvious - what is so clear to everyone else, I wonder if they wonder about whether you're mind is cluttered with all these hazy daydreams, all these irrelevant thoughts that fog up your head making it so dense, you see nothing else; you're oblivious to it all.
Sometimes, there is no need for evidence because you have the truth. You can't point to a line of reasoning with all the details in check and claim at truth. Like I love you - nothing is necessary after that if it's the truth. Like your soul. Like the sun.
Dock the boat at the port? Is that where it can be anchored down, tied down and kept from the waves. Could I be your port; tie you to me, keep your heart? We'll sip red wine and stain our fingers, watch it bleed over the carpet and think of the ocean. Intoxicating kisses and the soothing infallible rhythm of the waves.
Insects make my skin crawl. Or is that bugs? My eccentric, rebellious cousin loves to look at them close up, see their hairy legs and colorful wings, their bulging eyes staring into her from the smooth screen of her computer. She sees beauty in them, they make my skin crawl.
My alarm goes off - and if I slept early enough, my eyes open immediately, but my hand moves faster, instinctively dropping onto the snooze button. I'm alarmed by this early start to my day. It's such an ugly sound to wake up to.
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