It’s that heart stutter as butterflies flutter that reminds you that you’re alive. It’s the tangible tension and wantings unmentioned that sparks a special kind of desire. When you want to breach the barrier and reach across the table to grab hold and never let go. It’s the memories of messages coursing through your veins, words whispered that leave stains on your soul. It’s rereading, replaying, remembering and dreaming while wondering and wishing that you’re not diving alone. It’s the breathlessness upon a subtle graze and suddenly your skin is on fire yearning and burning for more.
It’s a connection, a knowing - a risk worth taking when you throw caution to the wind and jump hoping that someone will be jumping in with you.
With a glimmer of hope, rather than feeling fulfilled, I feel depleted. I feel that final strand pulled taught, ready to unravel at any moment. Hope is in the air, yet my heart is a black hole of despair - hopeless, used, unloved. It was bite-size bliss wrapped in a cellophane kiss, my mind screaming questions unasked as I found myself lost in your smile. It’s so easy to confuse passion with attraction, laughter with desire, a smile with security. So let me drown today in the mistakes I’ve made and dream of day I’ll feel I’m home.
I can’t stop the wheels from turning, my heart from yearning, my veins from burning because at every pause in the commotion, I’m reminded of your face. There’s a sudden silence and I hear your voice whispering from memories I’m trying to bury, but even six feet under you’re gripping ravenously at my heart. What I wouldn’t give to forget the day we met… my heart still skipping from the stutter you caused when your presence shook my foundation askew. I fear I’ll always long for you until I crash our ship into pieces on the shore.
I have this burning desire nuzzled against my heart, screaming desperately to crawl within your arms. Just to lie there for a staggered breath or two and pretend and dream that I belong somewhere. I feel like a dozen detached flower petals floating helplessly downstream with the frigid memory that the last petal plucked was a tear stained loves-me-not. I’m losing my grip on the water’s surface as pieces of myself drift further and further away. Hold me tightly so I don’t fall apart; keep me together with lies and empty promises that will fade with a meaningless kiss goodbye.
I feel like a broken record with my hopes and dreams and wants and wishes which all revolve around you. I feel I’ve said again and again that I long for you, yearn for you, pine for your touch. Your lips flutter deliciously across my mind and I die inside knowing I’ll never taste the nectar of your kiss. Remissed, I dream, scheming of things to say or do to win your heart. Instead I fall apart slowly, seams unraveling every day and I’m wasting away waiting for the day when you’ll finally see me.
And yet I still melt in your presence and dissolve in your absence. My mind is consumed by you, dreams filled with you as I chase, ever chasing you through dreamscapes. It’s unnerving to be so thoroughly permeated by your essence. I catch whiffs of your scent though you’ve yet to press your skin against me. I feel reality slipping away as I slide deeper down the rabbit hole. Consciousness fading, love evading my heart and I’m torn apart by desire and common sense.
Darling, I am enraptured by you, desperate to be ravaged by you, but to simply hand my heart over would be enough to find equilibrium again.
I have the moment scripted, though it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise. I’ve been told I write dialogue flawlessly, but that’s only because I run though fantasies over and over in my mind, like watching a movie until you memorize the lines. I want the fantasy to be perfect, believable, flawless. So I picture that moment.
We’ve hugged goodbye and I turn toward the door. I pause, caught between having just enough courage to go through with it but just enough doubt to hesitate. I turn to you and speak, or stutter would be more accurate, breathing my heartbeats in gasping breaths.
“I, ugh… fuck.”
Because I know there would be nerves, my hands would be shaking and I’d struggle, doubt catching the words in my throat. But to write what I’d say next, what I’d manage to pour out into the open air between us, that would be the curse. That would be like typing a spell to seal our fate as nothing more than the dreams of the lonely girl. I want to give us a chance before I write us off as a fairy tale of never-ever-after.
The only place I want to be is wrapped up in your arms. Instead I lie here dreaming of all the things I wish to say, all the scenes I’d like to play out with you. Oh, how my heart swoons, gasping for the breaths you’ve stolen. Sweet thief of my heart, take what you will. Steal a kiss from these lips, so wanting and ready. Lay claim upon me so I can at last stop dreaming and start living instead.
I shouldn’t miss you like I do in the absence of your indifference. Your avoidance and intentional naivety leave me hollow, empty in your wake. You have a hold on me, your barbs implanted in my heart as you haunt my dreams and fill my fantasies, I’ve nothing to think of but you. Darling, how I yearn for your touch, a subtle brush of your fingers or the lingering flavor of your halfhearted kiss. If only I could crash into you, leave a similar imprint from my impact as you’ve left upon my fragile flesh. Want me, need me, love, or just hold me for a few clandestine moments so I can pretend to be loved.
She awakes and decides to hate the world. Perhaps she dreamed of her brother, lost to the world to soon. Perhaps she dreamed of a better life, one where she isn’t a child, but a woman who acts her age. Perhaps she dreamed of things unseen, unheard but certainly dancing behind opaque curtains. She wanders about, a heart filled with hate, wishing for those she’s scorned to grovel at her feet, begging for forgiveness. So many fall to their knees, trying helplessly to regain her affections. But in the end, all she wants is to matter to somebody, even though she despises their presence. So instead, she picks a golden child, the one to whom she’ll whisper secrets, inviting them into her realm. Oh, how they bask in her light, soaking up her rays of attention. I pity their attempts, for I know that I stood in their shoes only yesterday, but today I’m a smudge on an otherwise pristine landscape.