Be, for the moment.
Guard your heart, but remember to let the occasional visitor spend a night or three.
In the beginning of a relationship I am always inspired to write.
But as we get to know each other and we become more comfortable saying things around each other, my mouth becomes the pen and her ears become the paper. It’s a dangerous place to be for a gal who isn’t interested in marriage.
It’s a vulnerable place to be nestled in.
Ah, our innate desire to return to the womb, come true through feelings of trust and something we call love, which in actual fact is insanity.
This we will all realise a few years down the line when irritation replaces awe, when stony silence replaces easy conversation and when sleep replaces sex.
Yet, in recent months my rib cage seems to have given way and in doing so, exposed my heart to this feeling of vulnerability. It came disguised as a mutual love for music, a smile, infatuation, easy conversation and the hope for mornings, days and nights of naked cuddling.
Now, we hold hands, my way of asking you to not leave.
We lock eyes, my way of telling you let’s go home and be alone.
We cuddle, my way of saying I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else where I can’t feel your mounds of pale flesh rise and fall against my back as you breathe in my neck.
Beautiful as it may be, I know this isn’t a place for long-term stays.
It’s too beautiful; it’s a place where too many emotions feel the need to speak out.
Whenever I visit this place I can’t control them. They run away with me and in the end, I am exhausted from trying to gather them all and place them back where they belong.
Even so, I think I’ll stay here a little while longer, wrapped in the ray of her smile, adoring eyes and that vulnerable trust that was and still is placed on the unknown.
‘cause if this isn’t happiness, then I don’t know what is.
Even if it’s just temporary.
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