"pull yourself together," she says while grasping at my arms, my upturned palms attempting to catch her radiance.
with every comforting, cathartic caress, i can feel the soil giving way under our feet as we dig ourselves deeper into the trench. i imagine enfolding her in my arms to protect her from the shrapnel. the deafening, piercing sounds encircle us as the bedlam of the battlefield consumes us. we stand admist the chaos as dervishes.
i can feel the tip of her nose seeking solace in the curvature of my clavicle as she lets out a strenuous sound that cannot be called a whimper nor a sigh.
i run my fingers through her layered locks as i bury my nose into the tufts of her hair.
i breathe in and feel complete.
she is the stronger part of my being.
"so this is what makes you tick," she speaks with her head pointed downwards, projecting her voice into the box that holds my vinyl records.
"what creates can equally destroy," i'm purposely being cryptic and pretentious, simultaneously.
"alpha, omega," she turns and lays her eyes, full of concern, on me.
for a meager moment, neither of us lets a word escape from behind our teeth.
i sit on my side of the couch, trying to parse out our demons and see what battles we can fight as allies. i can only imagine our hands gently brushing each other as we remain indecisive in our choice to reach out and intertwine our fingers or keep them at bay. to succumb to the attractive forces and gravitate towards each others center, or to resist and strain at the pull.
i can sense her varying degrees of lament, but i don't want her to know that i know, too.
"there's love in those songs," i secretly wish for these words to be gleamed over and forgotten.
"this is our love," she pulls a record out and meticulously goes over the cover art from all angles before pulling the record out and placing it on the platter and gently placing the needle atop the record inside a groove. all i see is her genuine interest that shows in her sweet smile and round eyes. i want to be able to absorb her because she is everything that i am not. she is what completes this jigsaw puzzle, this amalgamation of imperfect emotions and unbalanced serotonin.
she is my dopamine drip, and i'd want this feeling to last for the rest of my life.
we're sharing space, time, and a bench that faces the ocean. its tides blackened by the moonlight sky as we close our eyes and feel the pulsating, breaking waves that natures moon provides.
we breathe in the summer scent of each other through the misty haze.
i look over to my right, and i can spot her serene smile as she sits upright with a shirt that displays "absolute garbage." she's just picturesquely perfect in this slice of time.
my face lets out a suble grin as i procure an assymetrical bite on the steel that sits on the right side of my mouth.
the slight metallic taste in my saliva reminds me of the caustic iron in your blood.
the fear of failure that was setting in is slowly exiting stage left.
"hey, you," i whisper as my nose traces its way down the side of her face.
"hi, hello," she says in a suggestive staccato whilst tilting her head in my direction.
"hello, again," i reply with the intent that we reinvent ourselves with respect to each other.
she replies with upturned eyes and a bite of her bottom lip.
please, surrender thy hand in the morning light. the surrounding coldness seeps into our skin and permeates throughout the velvet folds that encapsulate us. the conflicting warmth and synthetic cold brings us closer together in the wake of it all.
how i've longed to feel the welcoming warmth of your cautious touch.
the shadows have fallen and drawn their dividing lines. my own defenses have been lowered to accommodate the sins that spill across the sand.
with open arms and similarly open wounds, i welcome you in.
the wind cries as our sounds of disagreement fills the room. this moment will forever be engrained into my memory. i will be able to reconstruct this moment of persistent perfection for days to come.
please, sing your little song to put me to sleep.