I used to have this fear that I would hear you utter someone elses name in your sleep.
The possibility that you might love another; the graveyards of old girlfriends haunting your dreams.
You always wake me in the night with your ramblings.
Last night I awoke to you stroking my cheek. You said “I love you, Sam,”
I said “I love you too, baby,”
Then you rolled over and went back to sleep.
That’s how I know it’s real.
An automatic phrase at the tip of your tongue,
Nothing to hide or conceal.
No thought behind it, no rehearsed words,
Something that escapes you even in sleep.
You may be asleep, but your love is always awake.
I’ve come to realise that love is a state of being,
Your words reminded me.
They are the best words to wake up to,
Even if you have no recollection of it,
I will dream of those words for the rest of my life.
via Daily Prompt: Loop
A knot in my stomach formed, reminded me of the cherry stalks she would tie in knots with her tongue.
I’d found myself in her room, so eerie and quiet without her in it. There were polaroids all over the walls, some of them curling with age. Polaroids of Paris, picnics and cherry blossoms in summertime. That’s how I’ll remember her.
I could still see her laughing so vividly, giggling between lines of poorly spoken French. Her nose used to wrinkle when she laughed.
I remember her, blushing when I called her “ma chérie.”
But most of all, I remember the sound of her music box. A pretty little tune that I felt like I’d heard before, long ago in a life I’d already lived.
When I lifted the lid, it had already been wound. The familiar tune replayed over and over on a loop, like a never ending thread. Pirouetting was the delicate ballerina inside.
When I concentrated I could make the dancer change direction with my mind. Clockwise, anti-clockwise, clockwise, anti-clockwise. If only I could manipulate time. If only I could make the clocks spin backwards, just so I could see her once more.
The tune seemed to last an eternity, until the room fell silent once again.
I could feel her ghost haunting me.
Ma cherie, ma cherie, ma cherie.
every time i tell you that i love you,
it unlocks a tsunami wave of emotion i never knew existed.
i choke on the words like i am drowning and i can taste salt in my mouth
from the tears that begin to fall involuntarily from my eyes.
i have never loved somebody and have them love me in return.
when you look deep into my eyes and tell me you love me,
i believe you.
that is what makes me cry.
my hands are red hot.
but you still shiver under their touch.
i never would have admitted that i loved you.
i never would have allowed you power over me.
You left a bitter taste in my mouth,
like prozac on my tongue.
I have had boys who devoured me,
ravaged me – wouldn’t even look at me.
I expected you to be the worst,
the most animal among them,
with your ice cold hands
and your ice cold heart.
What used to make me cry
was the memory that you might not be a monster after all,
when I remembered the feeling of your lips pressed softly to my collar bone.
And the gentle strokes of your fingertips on my hips,
How our hands would collide in the middle of the night,
I would fantasise;
You were just the beast in a fairytale
waiting to open your ice cold heart to my warm hands.
I would watch the icicles thaw,
watch you shed your thorns.
Slowly, you would fall in love with me
and give me the happy ending that I was searching for.