The Moment

After you’ve thought it all through. After you’ve decided. After you tell your fiancé you can’t marry her. After you break her heart. After you throw away four years together.

Before you shamefully tell your parents.  Before you move out and she keeps the dog. Before you find your things on the curb in the rain.

The moment you are free to be together. The moment you begin the conversation that will last a lifetime. The moment your eyes meet and playful conversation takes on a new meaning.  The moment you realize how close you are standing isn’t close enough. The moment the What If becomes What Is. The moment you give in to everything you’ve held back since you first met.

Lips part, hands touch, bodies meet.

The moment you realize it was worth it.

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Oh No, It’s Time

The sun rises and we are wrenched away from each other. With long, flowing arms, you beckon me back to you. I return your longing. I could spend forever peacefully floating with you. You make all of my wildest dreams come true. When I am with you, I am home. But your enemy brutally takes me away without care for our conversation. He threatens me with consequence if I return to you without permission. We are regimented in our time together, and it is never enough for me.

In the afternoon, I see you again. Joy overcomes me. I fall back into your lover’s embrace, your soft body touching mine intimately. Your smooth hands lull me and erase the troubles of the day. With you, all the pain and suffering, all the laughter and happiness wash away into nothingness.

After night has fallen and the midnight bell tolls, I may return to you. It no longer feels like a choice. You become my jailer, forcing me to spend long hours with you. Being in your arms feels like tightening arms on a straight-jacket. You scare me. Sometimes I wonder if you will ever let go. When we are together, I am not to be with anyone else. Just you and I, and sometimes the strange, blurred figures and shapes that visit me. If I struggle free, it is only until you pull me back under. So drowsy and sluggish, it is an easy battle for you. You control my time until I’m strong enough to fight you off. When I am, I spring away as quickly as possible, not to see you again, if I’m lucky, until the sun reaches its peak.

I sigh, looking at my watch and thinking, Oh no, it’s time for bed.


Hopefully you liked my clever little ode to my bed. Sorry for the weird mannerisms; I’m reading Wuthering Heights right now.

Would this be accurate for your ode to your bed? Let me know!

My bed and I have a love/hate relationship. I am a horrible sleeper. I stay up late at night, hate waking up in the morning, and am tempted into napping in the afternoon.

Owing Something

Owing Something

You feel bad for pushing him away when you were busy. Just because he gave you that look, right there in his eye. It makes you feel like you owe something to him. And do you really? It’s hard to tell. Do you owe him the stares you are always burning into his back, with the muscles and bones obvious in the way he sits, shirtless?

He is your inspiration. In fact, he is what is inspiring me to write this. I cannot help it. Like I said, just look at him and you’ll understand. If you’re still reading this you should already understand without me having to tell you to.

Oh those eyes, those eyes. They are green, a light olive, like the colour few have but yet so many do. He is trying to communicate with you through them but you are too busy, too inspired. And it is his entire fault yet he doesn’t comprehend this. He thinks you can just stop when you wish, because he wishes. He wants your attention, the greedy pig. But you can’t give it to him. Not yet. You’re not done.

He’s too impatient. Those like him always are though. They lounge around on the couch, waiting patiently for you to enter the room while you fix yourself up for the presence of others. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t say it but you know he’s thinking it questioningly in his head. Why is she dressing up? I love her the way she is.

But others don’t.

Others only like the made-up girl who actually took time to work on her appearance today. Or at least it seems so; isn’t that the only time you get compliments? They are certainly never about your self-proclaimed sparkling personality.

He has natural beauty. He is so handsome. You know if he had it in him, he’d say you are too.

He is a ginger, this one. There’s something appealing about the mop he has. The colours, natural highlights, of remarkable hues we rarely stop and appreciate because instead we find them so rare the beauty is unusual. But I like it. Red, orange, little wisps of black or brown hardly visible unless so close. In fact, he is so colourful he looks odd.

He will go with me wherever I go. Because you do everything together: you snuggle up on the couch, keeping each other warm, and watch a movie even if one of you doesn’t have enough patience or intelligence to follow what’s going on. He doesn’t care though, because he loves you and your company. You are everything to him; it’s not like he follows just anyone around. You’re pretty sure everyone else is jealous and upset by this but they understand; you love each other.

Sometimes he smells and you’ll wonder what he’s gotten up to. Maybe he was with another girl or in a dirty situation. Maybe he just spent too much time outside that day.

He is afraid of the strangest things and you find it cuter than those who are afraid of the norm: spiders, airplanes, or crossing the middle of the street. Though, of course, he will probably be fearful of these things too. But you’re more interested in how the popping of a balloon will make him jump, or how he can’t be in the same room as a vacuum cleaner being used.

You like how parts of him are softer than silk and much more comforting than it too. He is your teddy bear, even if he finds hugs awkward and you have to force him into them. He is vicious and intimidating though, and you know this even if it’s harder to believe. There is proof.

They are of a dying breed, redheads. But I hope he doesn’t die out. He will though. Doesn’t the thought make you cry? Come on, think of your ‘him’. You have one or you wouldn’t be reading this if you didn’t know what I’m writing about.

Do you really know what I’m talking about though? Did you realize, at all, that throughout this whole thing I was talking about my cat? What’s also eerie is how all that can apply to an animal. Just like you can have the same bond, the same friendship that is unspoken, with a cat that you do with the person you initially related this to.


 

Hi there, hope you made it all the way down here and liked what you read! Sorry for the delay in posts; I was working in the office for the past two weeks. This is my first post of longer content, the type of stuff that I’m mainly here to share.

I wrote this a couple of years ago and thought I’d share it. I’m curious; let me know how long it took you to figure out!

Exposed & Uncomfortable

“What are you doing?” He shouts, uncomfortable with what he just saw.

“I was getting changed!” She responds, like this is perfectly reasonable. If that were true, she wouldn’t be half-hidden and crouched down behind a desk, he thinks.

He throws out his hands and questions, “In a room filled with windows?”

“It was dark!”

As if that justifies it.

“You could have locked the door!” He says, before he walks out and waits outside. He feels his cheek, which is now a bright shade of pink. That’s just like her. Keeping him on his toes, as usual.

Hope

“But I had so much hope.”

 

“Well honey, an hour ago I had a homemade piece of pecan pie, topped with a dollop of fresh whipped cream. As amazing as it was, it’s gone now.”

Quotes {2}

Ultimately his loyalty was to her. She understood that, but yet some silly part of her still thought he might choose her, for once.


 

You either need to stop lying to yourself or stop leading me on. I know that I’m deceiving myself about us, but you feed the delusion too.


You’ve made your bed, go lay in it. Stop leaning out of it half way, looking over and asking me, “What’s up?”


That’s why it hurts. Because I gave him all of me, the barest parts of my soul, and he still said, “No, thanks, I’ll take the one on the left instead.”


What ever happened to apologizing when you’ve done something wrong? People are so caught up in their egos and being right that they can’t admit their mistakes or flaws.


I’d rather be true than false.


Don’t be pushed by your problems. Be led by your dreams.

 

Sunlight

They were meant to be.

They had to be, didn’t they?

She kept seeing him again and again, in person and in her mind. But it was something more than that. Something intangible and indescribable. Words couldn’t do it justice. It was something you just had to feel. If you couldn’t feel it, you couldn’t understand it.

Try her best, she would call it a connection. A deep bond that was always there, even before their initial meeting. It would remain to be, whether over time it was ignored or cherished, watered or deprived. It was unbreakable. Time had proven that. There had been enough for both of them to change and grow into different people. They had spent years apart, with only random glimpses to survive on, and yet there was still that magnetic pull.

He lit her up like a Christmas tree grove, all strung up and beautiful, and from that, he basked in her glow. At times, it was faint. It was the soft haze of half-closed eyelids, limbs languid, and a Cheshire cat smile pointed at him. But truly she was the lighter than that. When she was around him, she was sunlight.