apathicxtears

Face to face, it was just as I remembered. The same nervous smile, the same lowering of voices, leaning in close to catch the words as they dissipated like morning fog, speaking quietly in fear of voicing thoughts too long pushed to shadowy corners. The same staring, trying to memorize every detail in a face, tracing every contour. The same drowning in eyes. The same magnetic pull, irresistible. The same static dancing across our skin, crackling into lightning at the slightest touch. He stared at the floor as I stared at him. He knew what I wanted, but the question still trembled on the tip of my tongue. "What happened?" It plummeted into t

The rosy glow of morning crawls across closed eyelids, illuminating planes and angles one at a time, as if knowing that a sudden revelation would cause a questioning of reality. A slight movement under a thick fan of lashes - He pulls me closer towards his sun-kissed warmth and the steady, slow, beating of his heart. Hushed are the birds, murmuring their songs in the early morning chill, unable to penetrate the cocoon we've made where we lay entwined. Eyes of summer mornings flutter open - sunlight through leaves. A shy smile gently curves his lips. A pause before a whisper, good morning, sunshine. A constant

I was once a leaf caught in the hurricane of your embrace, shaking violently, unable and unwilling to get out. I never found your center though I searched, enraptured by such beautiful violence against yourself and everyone. I drowned in the whirlpool of your kiss, cold waters trickling down my throat, freezing my heart. My lessons went to waste as I flailed and your waves pushed me further away from shore. Still I remember that night when your tempest did quiet to light breaths on my neck and your sea rocked me effortlessly towards the blushing dawn. Again I stand at the edge of your cliff.

The rosy glow of morning crawls across closed eyelids, illuminating planes and angles one at a time, as if knowing that a sudden revelation would cause a questioning of reality. A slight movement under a thick fan of lashes. He pulls me closer towards his sun-kissed warmth and the steady, slow, beating of his heart. Hushed are the birds, murmuring their songs in the early morning chill, unable to penetrate the cocoon we've made where we lay entwined. Eyes of early autumn flutter open - sunlight through leaves. A shy smile gently curves his lips. A pause, before a whisper - good morning, sunshine. A steady ceasele

The rue that grew by the narcissus withers in the heap of weeds. Stems and roots turn brittle as the gardener waters the petunias.

Wrap me in fabric of the finest weave, crafted by your skillful hands from your words of affection. It dispels the chill of winter, caressing my skin, hugging my body in a luminous sheen. Your work is truly beautiful, such intricate patterns and dazzling colors. But haven't I seen this same pattern and fabric on another?

Soft sunlight filters in, illuminating porcelain shoulders. Rosebud lips that murmured such sweet vows in moonlight. Fragile hands rest on silken sheets, golden glimmer that marks our bond. I long to keep you like this forever. Eyelids flicker. Do you dream of me? I imagine your love immortalized on canvas. Vibrant red. Shh, don't stir. Won't you smile, my jewel? Such beauty, wasted on jagged splatters. Alas, you butchered it, spiteful whore.

Words slide from sensually curved lips whispering secret fallacies into quivering souls. Serpentine, saccharine, hands caress flushed skin. Skillfully soothe anxious minds with slippery promises. Revision Words slide from sensually curved lips, whispering secret fallacies into quivering souls. Saccharine fingertips caress flushed skin as slippery promises soothe anxious minds. The skillful lover spreads the kisses of one to another on sultry nights.

Just beyond the garden fence grows Rue, her leaves quivering, flowered face staring at laughing Narcissus, surrounded by Lily, Marigold, and Tulip. Her tendrils stretch each day closer and closer to that patch of earth warmed by golden sun, beside him, close to that merry yellow face so similar to her own. Every day, the gardener watches with narrowed eyes her careful movements, his hands inching closer to his trowel. A wary guardian, his eyes search for invaders of his precious garden. Rue hears what the flowers say, their gossip carrying in the breeze. If only she had their bright colors, their sweet scents, their lush pet

What happens when love just isn't enough? When you're making love to someone who tries to imagine that it's anyone but you that's there? When you caress their anxious skin, heated brow, and know it's not you that they're dreaming of? When they still say "I love you" but spend more time in the shower than in your bed? I think, my dearest one, that we happen.