Bracing

Jul. 23rd, 2008 at 10:13 PM

It's come to this, I've sealed my heart to yours. I can't imagine how boring, trivial, and uninspiring my life would be like without you in it now. I can't return to how I used to feel: numb and exsanguinated, when you make me feel a rush of life with each and every kiss; with your lips so close to mine, my breath melding with yours, the sweetest perfume carried with it into the depths of my soul. I have never been kissed so fiercely, so deeply, and so passionately as when you are kissing me. I can tell you now, that is your signature checkmate, your kiss, second only to your smile. That same smile that curls back your delicate lips around teeth that try in vain to mirror the glimmer of pure joy in your eyes. Chocolate and mint, my favorite flavors mixing in a heady way, your gaze knocks me to the floor faster than tequila on an empty stomach. Funny that this spinning floating feeling you give me doesn't disorient me the same way though. I feel happy, at home, like there is no where I'd rather be than in your arms, my fingers twisting through your tangled curls. Those curls who dance across my body whenever you bend your rose colored lips to my pallid skin. They're animate, like thousands of delicate fingers, following the curves and bends of your head, tickling in a strangely luxurious way. I want to bottle the scent of your curls and muzzle myself with it the day long. That comforting nostalgic smell that speeds me to another time and place. Like a secret island only the two of us know how to find. The treasure map, charted out in skipped heartbeats and stifled gasps. You're far too astute to miss out on the signals I am sending, however subtle or obvious. I can't help but want to say it, with every heart beat, with every breath, with every eye blink: I love you. So it has indeed, come to this, you've opened the floodgates and like a roaring river I am overflowing with the emotion you raise within me. It is flooding the landscape all around me, dragging the ordinary pedestrian things of life into it's violent currents. Cars, mailboxes, cats on floating wooden boards, half empty tin cans all taking on the brilliant colors of what your love has done to me. I should be running for high ground. I should be sand bagging my house and setting up the sump pump in my basement. I should be readying the wet vac for the impending destruction it will leave in its wake when the flood a baits and leaves a high water mark on all I own. A high water mark indeed, one that will never be paralleled the same way in this lifetime. But I'm not running anymore. I'm through sand bagging, I just rip their stubborn plastic weave of faux burlap open with bleeding fingers and dump the sand around my heart, making that island a real place I can carry with me. An island only you know how to find, with the scent of your curls waving in the breeze and carried offshore. And instead of fighting back the burgeoning tides with the help of mechanical vampires, I open my doors wide to the flood, strip off my armor of inhibitions and decide to slip into that current. I will swim, perhaps until I drown, but I will swim and flow with the rapids your love supplies me with. And if I should ever feel like I'm loosing air, like I'm close to succumbing to a watery grave at the hands of these currents, I will steal a breath with one exhilarant kiss and swim on.

Music:Sunday Morning - Lily Allen