“Today is a day that I am in love. Yesterday was a day I was in love, and tomorrow will be one too. I’m in love with the same boy who I met years ago. I don’t even remember how or when we met, but I know that we were young and innocent. I still remember the glasses he wore in middle school, and how he still wears them sometimes, and how even through the pane of his glasses or the nakedness of his pure sight, his gaze is still the most penetrating I’ve ever encountered. His green eyes are like a sea of trees just barely touched by the chill of winter and I think of how when the snow falls, I want to create snow angels in them forever. I run down from his eyes to his lips, which create such deep lines in his cheeks when he smiles. I’ve never seen him fake a smile, and for that I’m glad. He has never felt the need to do such a thing. He always smiles with his teeth and grins with his lips, but either one sends me. From the curve of his mouth to his jaw, which is an impressive one. Not too sharp to cut my hands, but strong enough to clench just when he is sitting. Then down to his neck, that is somehow more defined than his face, and a place where I have had the privilege to kiss a few times over. His skin is always hot under me. I imagine if we were to embrace and not let go, we both would soon melt from the fire of each other. But he is a brighter flame than I. His chest and stomach are simple; toned and smooth and begging for my finger tips to trace along the muscles. It always would tickle him when I did so, but it made him laugh when I laughed. Along his arms are a dream; veins mapped out like the roots of an ancient oak, sure of their strength. Down to his hands is the touch of a ghost; so fleeting and soft despite the callouses he possesses. His hips and legs are slim and strong, built for conquering the waves of oceans and the hills of mountains with wheels beneath his feet. He is more graceful and dangerous than I could ever hope to be. The way he walks, and talks, and stands in the light of my open front door still floors me. All I can do is watch as he leans against the frame, a cigarette between his lips. I remember how I kissed him with his mouth full of smoke, and how the taste was bitter but just sweet enough to make me come back for more. That’s all I want to do, really. Touch my lips with his. And even though he doesn’t know what I think of him, and how badly he makes me yearn for him, I still do. I told him I was in love with him yesterday. He hasn’t said more than one sentence…"I wasn’t expecting that.” But I had expected it. That reaction of his. He is frightened by situations as I am, and so he went quiet. I asked him if he still didn’t have anything to say, if he was okay. Today is a day where I’m still waiting for what he has to say.“
Allie, writing prompt #67: write about an almost relationship, which broke your heart (via wordsnquotes)
