Friday, November 4, 2011

Because It's How She Makes Me Feel

Love is….

The flutter. 
The sway. 
The swell of chest that mocks your heart
for not previously beating properly.

The absent sighs, and random grins.  The moments when the wind
mimics a hug.

How everything suddenly matters.  And nothing else seems to matter.  And how
the two combine, into a telling collage that lips and ears
and eyes can’t quit painting.

On nights, together alone, how you curl so close
you can feel their breath, and even taste it. 
It hangs at the roof of mouth, slips
over smiling lip, and gets tangled in your hair.
 
On nights, when they are not there, the very
presence seems plastered everywhere.  In the dimples
of your pillow.  In the tassels of the blanket, all reaching like
fingers.  In the way the ceiling hangs, above you,
lowering like a body greeting.

In radio songs.  And commercial songs.  And the songs your
mind can’t stop singing.  La la lala la.  Lala lala la
And you know they are singing the very next line.

A lightning strike that crashes against your sternum.
The thunder that rolls in the pit of your stomach.
The cute hellos.  Extensive goodbyes.  The way
you always wish they’d be there.

The flutter.  The sway.  The fear of falling, combined
with the leaps you faithfully take.
Skin seeking skin.  That perfect embrace that
you both hope never ends.

The constant throb of hearts beating.  Lungs expanding.
Veins on edge, requesting injection.
The fill and the feel.
The sounds of words like ‘whole’ and ‘forever’.
That first second when you noticed how
the blood rushes through you,
realizing just how much
you expand.

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