I had woken up too late to get to all the things I had wanted to make perfect before you came. My mind was racing filed to the brim with anxiety.
What if you were a catfish? What if we did not have chemistry? What if you were creepy and the spirits hated you? What if you were a serial killer? What if you suck at sex? What if I suck? What if you hated my food? Okay, that doesn’t really matter… but, you know? What if you did not like me like that?
Naturally, I was late to get you from Park Station. You sat outside some restaurant whose name I have forgotten, wearing a cute hat with your dreads tucked in. Your skin was the colour of everything beautiful I had ever seen. Your eyes were a crystal ball and all my things were packed neatly at the centre of your soul.
You smiled shyly and asked if I wanted to hug. I did even though I hate hugs. I absolutely wanted to hug you. You smelled so good and I was very glad that you’d sleep over and I’d spend the whole night trying not to touch you in any kind of way.
We went to my place.
You sat on a bar stool and watched me cook dinner. The air was infected with your sexiness and the possibility of love. I stole glances at your beautiful face and the excellent stature of your girls in between the cutting of vegetables and Lana Del Rey induced trances. We drank gin and smoked weed and I was tipsy and high enough to take my crop top off and dance on top of the bed in my bra.
We were friends, so nothing was meant to happen.
We’d been texting each other every day for months, and speaking nights into dawns on the phone. It was your voice that started it. If summer was over seasoned with cinnamon and dunked in honey, she’d say my name the way you do. She’d say hello and I’d get naked. She’d say goodbye and my heart’s pieces would disintegrate.
By morning, your arm was around my waist. Your warm, naked body pressing exceptionally against mine. I had a bit of hangover and we had an early meeting in Sandton. I spent the whole time looking at you and dissolving the world into your sovereignty.
That night, we slept at my boss’ house and made love in his white cotton linen. The trees and all the neighbourhood money made the air outside cool, but you were the most notable thing. The way your skin filled the lines on my palms, and how your exhales fit into my mouth. We were feeling up our friendship, holding its texture to the light, scrutinising it intently and opting for something different.
I’m not sure of the specific time I fell in love with you.
All I know is that I did, and I do every single day. You fill my life with colour and music and art and so much poetry. We have not decided if you’re the sky and I, your sun, but we know it’s something of the sort and I want for nothing but your sweet sweet sweet sweet resurrection. Poison me over and heal me again.
I am absolutely and irrevocably in love with you.
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