(no subject)
I press my winter-red lips against his arm and say “hello there, hurricane”
It doesn’t matter that it isn’t him I say it to, because he is warm and there is love, so I press back into the embrace and laugh when he refuses to let go.
I close my eyes and hold out both of my hands - a kiss planted on one, a sweet planted on the other. I think, “I believe every one of the words that told me life was a big, beautiful, arching, reaching, trembling thing” and I say, “let’s share it”, breaking the sugary-nothing in two, in three, in however many I can manage until its crumbling into ridiculousness and everyone smiles instead of eating.
The days pass (because they have to, or: because I will them to) with me throwing analogies at the walls to see what sticks. The thing is, things keep sticking.
I am not falling apart, but pulling myself when I think the quiet thoughts of a desperation so great it takes waking up in the morning to snow on the window sill to bring me back in.
Hello there, hurricane. I love you well.