Something I wrote while waiting, I’m no english major but I have stories in this skull I suppose
bad spelling, mistakes, I apologize kinda. -
She’s killed worlds, saved them too. She knew when to watch and when to intervene. She’s old, not by her standards but everything around her will die before she looks 30. She’s seen all the horror that can happen to people, the horror. She knows about the world and what’s in it, how it turns, what we eat, how the paint and soil can change our lives. But she’s never known soft, *soft* only existed when she was a baby, until they stopped swaddling and started taking samples.Â
Her face is bright, I think it’s how she blushes. She has never experienced such love, I move my hand up her neck. She turns away. The greatest love she’s ever had was between soldiers, “I’ll carry you off this battlefield, you will fight again, I promise.” How close did she get? She knows she wants it but not know what *it* is. My thumb moves across her cheek, she gasps. She’s never surprised, maybe she had an epiphany. Did the soldiers in those barracks and safe houses ever kiss? Did they touch out of pure affection? Did she ever want to do that too? She told me before, stories of how they’d bump shoulders, high-five, and butt foreheads. I’ll do the same, I put my forehead against hers, she turns back to me. That expression, trying to look stern, her lips tremble, cute…..
She’s the oldest and wisest life I have ever seen. Mature since she was 4. But when it comes to love she’s like a child about to go on a roller coaster for the first time; scared and ready. The feeling is familiar and distant.Â
“I love you,” are the words I put my soul into.
“I- I love you, please let me be- uh… of use to… you,” her eyes sparkle, a new beginning, she wants to be mine. Yes, you will be, a promise sealed with a kiss.
