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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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!