If This Was The Last Thing I Said

This one is for Pamela.

I don't know how to begin with this. If I were to leave, I hope you'll be okay. You're a dancer. I see it in you everywhere you go. Treading one foot after the next on the sidewalk. Skipping cracks on the pavement. You're one of those people whose dreams resonate within you and burst forth in every action you do. I will never be in a position to critique your skills, but your passion is something so special.  If I were to leave you, I hope you chase those dreams the way you chased the frothy edges of the sea at our spot at the beach. Never thoroughly pursuing, but never letting out of sight, a dance to a rhythm between only the sea and the sand between your toes.

I hope you find someone who loves you and never leaves you the way I have. I hope he never finds a reason to doubt his love for someone like you. You'll meet a boy who can't help but smile every time he sees you, someone who will hold your hands in his and study the creases like constellations. He'll tell you the meaning of the lines you've drawn on your skin, and he'll tell you about his family and his dreams, and how every wrong turn in his life eventually led to you. I hope you meet someone that your family will love, and he will take time off to get tackled by your nieces and hold hands with you in front of your father. And I hope he will call in the middle of the day to remind you that he loves you and leave random notes around to tell you how incredible you are. And even behind closed doors, he will hold you in his arms so delicately that you will allow yourself to trust him. You will find a man who's been searching everywhere for someone like you, and he's going to make you happy in a way I never can.

If I leave you, I hope you'll keep on loving the things you do. I hope you continue to make warm nutella sandwiches because they're the best things I've tasted. I hope you continue to look up at the stars, and count them, and after a while give up because they're like holes on a piece of canvas and you are but one girl trying to conquer the universe. And I hope you try, because the universe is within your reach.

I fell in love with your sincerity, your kindness, and your compassion, and I believe all these things make you who you are. If I die, I hope all these things stay alive within you and that you're able to share them with someone else whose whole world amounts to you. I hope you find happiness, and I hope you remember me by that one night I wrote a song for you and played it on the guitar and sang out of key. Embarrassing, but I suppose its who I am, an ambitious mix of overthinking and too little thinking. Its never been the case that I don't love you. Even when I cannot say it, its because those words simply don't capture the integrity of what I feel towards you. Its not just love, its intrigue, and amazement, and anger, and care, and guilt and I don't think the simplicity of love is what they all sum up to. 

But if I die, hope you never need to see my body. Remember me for a while, and then let me go as soon as you can. You are so much more and you can be happy without me. Have faith.

What You Want, What I Need

Sometimes I imagine us, squinting out fuzzy blossoms of daylight, 6.57 in the morning. You'd let out a tired sigh of content and arch your back against my stomach as I rub my thumbs in circles on either side of your navel. I press my face into the crook of your neck, the fine hairs at the bottom of your skull softly caressing my cheek. The sunlight is pouring in now, through the slits in your curtain, casting shadows on your body that I delicately trace with my fingertips. I lean in closer, lips barely brushing against your bare shoulder, breathing, warm breaths on your skin, hands gently urging you closer. My eyes close as I give in desire, pressing my lips against your neck to taste your skin.

Then there's sometimes where I imagine us in the still privacy of your bedroom, heat hanging low in the air around us. I trace your silhouette with my gaze; watching your lithe movements makes an urging need pool at the bottom of my stomach. I cross the room to you and you turn to acknowledge my presence. The look on my face must have given me away, but I'm too far gone by now. Two steps and I have you against the wall, my hips pressing against yours. My hands find their way along your spine, kneading into your body in a steady rhythm as you lean into me. I tilt your chin up gently so I can taste your lips. I want to delve into the warmth of your mouth but you begin to clutch me urgently from deep strokes of my hands on your back. I can hear you whimper softly as you dig your nails into the back of my neck. I cannot imagine what sensations you are feeling, but in a moment fueled by carnal urges, I only want to pleasure you more.