It never felt like this before. When your eyes were on him. Not the eyes that are that vibrant, beautiful, blue-green. He felt like that part of him, the Wall, is falling, East Germany, November, 1991. The unenviable trait of being content, simply on his own begins to fade. It's a wonderful thing how a connection is formed, sacrificing for someone else, the dissipation of one.
Easy smiles, long drives, calculated text messages,
Silhouettes by a Swedish house DJ on the car stereo.
She became more real for him.
It's the hand that traces the outline of your creases in the sheets.
The eyes that flit, flutter, dance awake.
The words that make us both shake;
'I'm here to stay'.
When you've given all that you've had before and you've pushed yourself to a point where the only thing you want is to want someone that wants all of you as much as you want them, only then can you really truly find someone.
I never knew this until a cloudy day in July, the sky was dull, grey, threatening to rage against humanity with weapons of mass rainfall.
Remember lying in your bed and the heavens opened? Millions of water droplets began to fall, spiraling, tumbling, rushing their way to earth.
Over our head they crashed, flattened, and streaked off the window pane.
The bedroom pane was more than just a window above us. It was more than just a place for light to enter darkness.
It was a window of our soul. Peering in, you can see heartbreak, distrust, complications.
We couldn't stay away.
And I think ultimately when he began a new start, it wasn't just a new experience, a new relationship, or a new car smell that gradually wears off.
That would be a terrible iteration of vanity, much less a moral improvement.
This was a new beginning. His brain churned like the reverie of the most concussive opiate.
She was worth it. She was perfect.
She is his.
