He’s dressed like prince charming and none of my writings pass the Bechtel test but God he looks like an angel. He looks at me like he can finally exhale, as if he’s been searching for me everywhere, calling my name into the crowded rooms he’s never found me in and finally caught up to me.
He smiles and I hope I hope my little smirk matches his, because his lips look like crooked rose petals from across the way. He doesn’t even have to touch me to seep through me like smoke, when I walk away he’ll linger in my hair and clothes. I know it’ll take more than hot water to rinse him out.
I’ve had this drug before, side effects include heart racing, palms sweating, long nights awake, Sunday morning sleep ins, constant overthinking and occasional running makeup.
I’ve seen this movie, I rate us three stars because the end is predictable but I want to see it anyways. The red carpet I laid out for him upon my heart has been walked all over but he treads lightly.
I am his day at the beach, I am his sunset and sunrise his midnight and golden hours. I am his riptide, pulling him in, throwing him back.I am his gentle reminder that the sun will always rise again. I am the waves, if I thrash against the hard places I am stuck beside he pulls me away from them, if I thrash against him he pulls me in tighter.
I see him standing in the sunlight, a silhouette with golden edges, he sees me sitting in the sand. Kiss me in soft filters, laugh into my mouth when we kiss let your teeth graze mine when we can’t keep our light to ourselves.