Mine?
This is what it is like to be so scared for so long that you don't know what to do when it looks like it will be alright. You become scared out of habit, needing constant reminders that you can now not be afraid. You find new reasons to fit your old terror, justification which is easier, somehow, than just letting yourself breathe.
He is not leaving.
He says it with a smile, interrupting your manic plans to crush your wrist with a hammer or skip town or both. He is looking for something the millitary can't offer. He is not going to sign his life away to do paperwork, or slog through radioactive water in Japan, fishing mangled bodies from flooded nuclear plants.
The last six months have been agonizing. You've spent them writhing in your illness because you've wanted to have something, anything, to fall back on when he shipped out. The last two weeks have been worse, as you have abruptly severed Her from your life. A crushing, lonely emptiness has filled you, and now, you can let it go.
You are so profoundly greatful that you feel guilty. Are you dependant, or madly in love, or just don't want to be alone?
He smiles, his expression so soft as he cups your frail torso in his hands, holding you up and close He says he knows what you are thinking as you stare down into his chocolate eyes, but he wants you to say it. You stumble over your shy confession, trying not to seem too needy, too raw and helplessly relieved. You look away and mumble, afraid you might break into tears.
He smiles, again, like you saying it confirmed his desicion, and suddenly, you two are in the other room, making love. His body fits into yours in a perfection which transends words. Whimpering and moaning, you shiver and arch, kissing him until the end, thinking can this really always be mine?
He is not leaving.
He says it with a smile, interrupting your manic plans to crush your wrist with a hammer or skip town or both. He is looking for something the millitary can't offer. He is not going to sign his life away to do paperwork, or slog through radioactive water in Japan, fishing mangled bodies from flooded nuclear plants.
The last six months have been agonizing. You've spent them writhing in your illness because you've wanted to have something, anything, to fall back on when he shipped out. The last two weeks have been worse, as you have abruptly severed Her from your life. A crushing, lonely emptiness has filled you, and now, you can let it go.
You are so profoundly greatful that you feel guilty. Are you dependant, or madly in love, or just don't want to be alone?
He smiles, his expression so soft as he cups your frail torso in his hands, holding you up and close He says he knows what you are thinking as you stare down into his chocolate eyes, but he wants you to say it. You stumble over your shy confession, trying not to seem too needy, too raw and helplessly relieved. You look away and mumble, afraid you might break into tears.
He smiles, again, like you saying it confirmed his desicion, and suddenly, you two are in the other room, making love. His body fits into yours in a perfection which transends words. Whimpering and moaning, you shiver and arch, kissing him until the end, thinking can this really always be mine?