Wrap me in your arms and kiss me sweetly, slowly and carefully. It’s one of those rainy afternoons where I feel as fragile as a piece of glass that may shatter at any moment and I want to feel your arms around me.
Remove my clothing, my emotions, and this day. Lay me down. Wipe it away with your touch, your skin pressed against mine and your kisses. I want your lips to pluck the thorns out of my skin until I’m free of everything that hurts.
At least for now.
Fill me up, rock me until I’m breathless, clamoring for something to hang on to, something to ground me again. I’ve spent too much time in my head and too little time in my body. Bring me back to the sensations of be here, of being alive; a living, breathing, feeling human.
Gooey, sticky emotions pull at me like strings of bubble gum making a mess of everything. I’m not good at accessing, let alone freely expressing what’s below my surface, despite craving that kind of connection with people. The kind that keeps us tangled together on rainy days, exchanging words, and emotions while slowly unwrapping each other.
When I do share the sticky things, you listen all the same as if I were talking about the weather. It’s not that you are callous, you just don’t try to fix my stuff. You listen with grace and ease and it’s why I find it so easy to both give and take with you. It’s how I can be who I am in whatever manner that is manifesting in this moment.
I feel detached, yet close with you. Open, but I feel the boundaries of what this is so acutely that I don’t pull. I don’t try to extract more than I feel you want to give. I simply allow it to be what it is and choose from there.
To open or not open?
Opening and sharing my words and physicality provides a release. The more I do, and the more you show up, the more I trust. I could tell you how much you’ve helped me push through things I didn’t know I was capable of pushing through, how your presence in my life has helped me stay open to my desires and open to expressing myself. I could share that for me, this has all been an exercise in trust, in a kind of love I haven’t had yet until now.
Our interactions are so brief, easy and fluid that I’m not sure how such sentiments would work. It never feels like the right time, or the right place, but I feel it and I appreciate it and let that marinate in my bones for a while and know that you’re here and if I choose to tell you, you’d hear it.
For now though, I want to rest my cheek on your chest, wrap my arms around your waist and tangle my legs with yours. Hold me still please. I want to let go of the image I cling to, the outward projection I let the world see. I want to cry. I want to let go of a river of emotion, unleash whatever is pent up inside, and be held through it.
Then when it’s done, when it has run its course, we’ll get dressed again. You’ll hug me, we’ll kiss lightly and you’ll walk out the door, turning and smiling before walking down the stairs and out into your life as I return to mine. I’ll get dressed, and go about my day once more, wondering briefly what it is about you that does these things to me, how you effortlessly crack me open, but the wondering won’t stick. It’ll slide off of me like raindrops running down my arms.