I would watch the sun rise every day with you. I would take a mental picture of the light breaking over every curve of your face, watch it light up the bleached ends of the hairs of your beard, sweep over your upturned nose, kiss the tips of your eyelashes good morning. I would watch the dust dance in the rays of the waking sun, pass my hand through them and watch them swirl around the trail my fingers left behind. I'd watch them land on your shoulder, minuscule bits of leftover things just looking for a place to land.
(I feel like I am a minuscule bit of many leftover things; dreams and wishes and hopes and loves and the thoughts you have in the backseat of your car on the hottest day of summer at 3am; I feel like I am the wisps of smoke you exhale, the pieces of a dandelion you blow away to grow new flowers somewhere else, the footprints butterflies leave behind on rose flower petals)
I could wake up to you every day for the rest of my life and find something new each time I opened my eyes, if they had even been closed from the night before. I could stay up all night and watch you toss and turn, watch your eyes wander back and forth behind your eyelids and wonder what you see when you sleep, wonder if you dream of me. I could fold myself into the centre of your chest and feel your heart vibrate through your ribcage, feel the swell and collapse of your sternum with every gust of warm air your breathe.
(I could feel your warmth swallow me, pull me close and wrap me up in a cocoon of safety and softness. I could lazily catch my breaths catching up and keeping time with yours, like every part of our being was meant to be in sync. I could wrap my arms around you and feel my fingers touch each other on the other side, and feel like I was one with you, feel like I could be one with somebody)
I would watch every waking and sleeping moment of every day with you, watch the days change, watch the hours pass by and never tire of you, never get bored or lose interest in the way goosebumps appear when the cool fall breeze comes through the window at dawn, the way the pillow turns your hair into a crazed, insignificant chaos that I could run my fingers through for the next eternity. Even through hazy, clouded sight I could find things to appreciate about you until there is no part of you left.
(from looking at the miles of skin, bones, and things you are I have discovered that I am not magnificent; but I would travel to the ends of the world, from the ends of your hair to the tips of your fingers and toes and back again so I could know every part of you; every inch of your brain to try and figure out what you see in me, every line in your fingerprint to see how my skin feels under your fingers, every last taste bud to understand how my name rolls so smoothly off your tongue)
I could curl into your chest, or sit on your shoulder, or the tip of your nose, or anywhere you would have me.
(I feel like I am a bit of many leftover things, just looking for a place to land.)
areudirty
gummygunk
snowghoul
dailybridgerton
jacobvanloon
kianamaiart
2087
jbbartram-illu
discoholicmusic
romaincrisis
