“She wraps her legs around your waist.
She whispers in your ear.
"Stay.”
This is your cue to kiss her. Wrap your fingers in her hair; enclose them around her neck. Hard. Just hard enough to feel her pulse, the quiet beat beat beating.
She won’t always be this vulnerable, this open. Right now her trust is in the palm of your hand.
This is your cue to pull her closer.
Place a gentle thumb on her bottom lip and breathe. “Stay, stay, stay” she says.
Tell her you will. Tell her: “okay.””
i get hooked on the wrong things. or maybe it’s just that in
all this time, no matter how badly i tried, i never mastered the art of giving
up hope. it was all i had for so long. maybe i just got used to the taste of it
on my tongue. i believed in friends who hurt me so many times that i got used
to the way they grated against me. i trusted lovers long after my sheets
smelled of their small betrayals.
i remember the moment i realized my own vulnerable heart,
the open wound that trusted all. he was laughing behind a closed door about my
poor excuse for a body. i crumbled under the weight of the things he said about
me.
and later - and later, with his palms on my cheeks - he
promised me that it wasn’t true. that it was just joking. but i had heard the
tone in his voice, the honesty, the secrets he told that belonged to me. the
way he was using my body.
he held my eyes. “please stay,” i told myself: don’t go
back, you know he meant everything. he said. “i love you.”
despite everything, with this terrible weakness hope, i felt
myself believe.
She's not the girl baristas put their numbers on her cups so she's notice them. She's not the guy random strangers gives flowers to. She's not the girl someone gives a note to in the library saying how pretty she looks while she's reading. She's not the girl her neighbor has a secret crush on. She's the girl who's chasing her dreams. She's the girl who has been rejected her entire life. She's the girl who always gets rejected. She's the girl who's capable of making someone so happy but never had the chance to. The girl, she's the one.
My mouth burns with the idea that I’ll never find another love like the one I had with you. How do I open the garden of my bones when you’ve burnt it all to the ground and I’m good at remembering hurt. You saw the hollow parts I keep hidden and made them full. You kept sunlight in the dark places of my soul. What if I never get that again. What if this was my only chance. What if after knowing perfection I’m given loneliness in the end.
