All I can think about is watching the sunset with a glass of something sweet.
Then we slow dance our way inside where you let me read your palms and you attempt to read mine. The florescent light from the kitchen bathes us in yellow and we slow dance in our bare feet on the cool tile.
The forever-present weight on my chest finally doesn’t feel so threatening and I can breathe right now with you. Tomorrow can dance before my eyes and I can sigh with a soft comfort in the safety of your arms.
Somehow we make it up the stairs and fall into old dreams still lingering in our sheets. Our fingers intertwine and we lose sense of who is who and all I know is I’m complete.
All I can think about is our love.
Our hands slip together like a finished puzzle and it’s remarkable how complete you can feel just from a simple touch.
It’s remarkable, even, to think about how much you can feel at one time. I’ve noticed it can be as chaotic as a tornado with so many things flaring up all at once, or even as simple as one word flashing, like an Exit sign right in front of your eyes.
More often than not I’m a raging sea full of things even I barely know about. More often than not, I couldn’t begin to describe all that I’m holding in my brain, or in my heart. Yet through the miracle of my fingers, I can at least get some of them out.
So this is what I think my love really is. It’s both as simple and as complicated as putting one letter after the other to find it’s right place. Easy enough to know what it is when you have it, but excruciatingly painful to figure out how to push it past trembling lips.
When I smile at you when you catch me staring, or when I can’t seem to go one second without touching you, I hope you hear the words I can’t seem to find in my vocabulary. I hope with every other word I can find, you can piece together my meaning behind it.
Just bear with me, won’t you, while I figure out how to un-complicate a single, simple phrase.
Because I swear I feel it.
They glittered in the sun –
Actually, in any light –
And hung high on her neck
Decorating her throat
She was plain, but regal all the same
No powders caked on her face
No paint adding color where there wasn’t
Her pale lips smiled and brought with it
The color she would never draw on
Her clothing was simple –
Bland, even; boring
But her body filled in nicely
And her hips swayed
With slow methodical rhythm
And her legs were steady, holding her up high
The pearls had their place on her
And they glittered in any light
They were simple really, even a bit plain
But they were beautiful in their modesty
Just like the woman who wore them
No games, no tricks – just truth.
I want to kiss you.