[serendipitouswrites-blog]

I tried to tell you how I feel yesterday, and I faltered, and the words got caught up in my throat, and I failed.  Kinda.

But what didn’t fail was the most beautiful sex I have ever had with you.  The most beautiful sex I have ever had in my life.

What didn’t fail is you treating me like I’m gold, unwrapping me like some sort of delectable candy bar you’ve been craving all day.  You look at me like I’m the most enchanting thing you’ve ever seen.  Nothing goes unexamined, and I feel like I’m an artifact in a museum under your gaze.  You are fucking glorious.

And then I tried to tell you that, I tried to tell you how I feel, and I faltered, and the words got caught up in my throat, and I think I failed.  But did I?

All that stumbled out of my tongue was a meek question of “what is this?”

All that mumbled out of your mouth was an “honestly, I have no idea”

And I was paralyzed.  My heart sank and I felt the pangs of past rejection starting to settle into the pit of my stomach.  The longer the silence, the more that pit grew, expanding with every inhale.  

I’ve always said the next person I trust with my heart has to surprise me, and you surprised me yet again.  You kissed my neck so hard, and all I could whisper was a “thank you”

And you cradle both of my hands in your own, you pull my head on top of your chest, right over your heart, my eyes greedily flick all over your face and you watch them.  And you say they’re beautiful.  And I’m starting to think that maybe I didn’t fail after all.  Maybe we’re both equally as confused and scared by the surprise in all of this.  How did we end up here, starting out as neighbors in our dorm a little over a year ago, neighbors who kept forgetting each others names?

I have a habit of questioning things to the point of exhaustion, but today I don’t feel like i have to question you.

[serendipitouswrites-blog]

I’ve picked up the habit of opening an eye in the middle of the night to catch a glimpse of your face while you sleep.  Well, at first it was a glimpse, but I’ve grown more bold about it, and admittedly, I do often stare because something about watching you sleep is one of the most endearing things I’ve ever seen.  Something about you makes me want to study every pore, every wrinkle, ever dimple on your face.  The dark ginger stubble, the unkept ginger hair that grows curlier and curlier the longer it gets, your blonde eyelashes.  You have this big nose, not as goofy and broken as the last boy, but just as magnificent.

I’m starting to fall, and I think you might be too.  When you open your eyes, those puddles of blue scan across my pores, my wrinkles, my dimples.  I pick crusties out of your eyes and you cradle my face with a palm that radiates a heat so intense I can feel freckles popping up all over my cheeks.  We feel the callouses on the tips of each others fingers, you examine all of my rings and I examine how silly my little fingers look compared to yours.

It’s a beautiful thing, finding yourself with a new person.  It gives me hope, something that hasn’t been a frequent feeling this past year.  I feel safer with you, slowly but surely.  Some days I wait for the punch line, the day where this crumbles apart, where I’m nothing but another hookup to you.  Some days I wait for the day where you disappear, where I’m left to pick up pieces of my heart and slowly stitch them back together, never as strong as they were in the first place.  You’re making me believe that there isn’t always a catch, that feelings can be real, that boys don’t just play games, and you’re surprising the hell out of me.  It’s been a while since I’ve had a nice surprise, and you’ve been the nicest one in a long, long time.

[serendipitouswrites-blog]

J

You wrapped yourself around me like you had for a month and a half, and the next morning you walked me to the tube stop and you kissed me goodbye, but I didn’t know it was gonna be the last kiss from you.  I didn’t know till the messages stopped coming, and there were no more responses, and you left the big strange city that wasn’t so strange anymore with no goodbye at all.  And now I see you once and a while in passing and I think of all the things you know about me.  All the things you knew about me.  And I wonder why you took those stories and those feelings and that honesty and consumed them greedily and burned off the calories that those stories were composed of and spat out the fatty tissue of my feelings and left me there with nothing in my heart or belly but emptiness, like I was starved for months.