i’ve heard that the blood in our veins is a different color than it is when it flows out and is touched by oxygen; that it is a suffocated purple on the inside, and a vivid, blooming red on the outside. i don’t know if it’s true, but i have to wonder if that’s the way it feels to fall in love.
i’ll run the tips of my fingers through your shaggy hair and not once will i regret the feeling of your breath heightened, moist, and warm against my neck and earlobes as i give myself over to you and when we are done the earth will resume its habit of spinning and circling the sun and we will drift off to sleep wrapped up in one another saying our good-nights through our bodies alone
i wish i was a stronger swimmer so i could cross the ocean that rushed in to keep us apart but i’ve always been afraid of those frigid, angry rip tides and the idea of being pulled under because i already know that when it comes to sink or swim i might as well be an anchor
god willing, you would lace your fingers with my own, and not cringe at my skin’s sand paper feel instead, you would raise my hand to your soft, cautious lips as you tell me not to fear
when you are cold and forgetting all of the good that exists in the world i hope you will come to me while your tears are still fresh and i will trace the veins in your wrist with my meager finger tips until you can remember your reasons for smiling because god knows we could all use a small reminder from time to time that someone cares too much to ever let us suffer alone
and i hope that someday you and i can swirl all our colors into one and live in whatever muddied tone it results in together
to memorize the curve of your crooked spine with my cool, eager fingertips is a task i readily accept it will be no challenge for me the smooth expanse of your back pulls me in again and again and again like the undertow of a stormy sea i will allow my lungs to fill with everything you are and everything you are not and be awed by all you’ve given me and at the end of the day as i lie in...