Dots

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She tells me that I am not alone,

I fight the thoughts in my head and the coming questions as they grow.

I hear the echo in her voice when it leaves her lips and hits my ear,

Like a wave of insanity, I become lost in the sound filling the emptiness.

Shattering between the layer after layer of madness that’s come to reside,

What if. What if everything just… poof. Vanishes. Thin air. All that.

Like it never existed. First place. Just like. When I pass you by in the future,

We won’t say hello. Makes me sad. Really sad.

Grab my hand, she likes the Beatles, sings: “ I wanna hold your hand”

I sing “ Angie, Angie, when will those clouds all disappear?”

She tells me she can’t stand cheating,

I tell her I don’t believe in monogamy, and I don’t know why I don’t want anyone but her.

It’s been a year she says. Anniversary.

Passed by quickly, I gasp. A year, 12 months. Days. Hours.

It’s really been a year. I love her more for being here. Still.

With her. My madness, her calmness.

My silence, her silence.

“I wanna kiss you”

“ I wanna hug you, candy to my soul”

She doesn’t believe in God. Questions how I do.

I don’t know how to answer her.

How can I not? She’s beautiful. So beautiful. Makes me sure there’s a God. Her heart feels warm; when it beats in my ear, I’m sure there’s a God.

Her hand. On my hand. Our sleeping positions. There is a God.

She says she knows the person I am when I’m not with her.

My laugh gets different. She sees the people I create in me to push others away.

It scares me. How she notices things in me. In detail.

She’s always holding something in.

I get paranoid. She understands. Guns, drugs. She understands.

“We’ll be okay.” I believe her. I vanish. A bit of time. She pulls me in.

Home. She feels like home. Like when it’s cold outside but it’s warm inside. You know.

Home.  Where my heart is. Where it feels like. I am untouched and detached.

Separated from outside. With a cup of tea under a blanket. In a house made of pillows. A castle.

I laugh. Even when the world I know is falling under my feet. Because when she looks at me. I don’t know. Like an instant happy pill.

She understands.

Makes me want to have a house. Children. Steady job. Come home to have dinner with her.

Grow old with just her. Take that last breath in. With only her. Just her.  Always wonder what to get her on her birthday.

I want to make her feel sexy even when she’s 70. Because a long time ago, it stopped feeling like sex.

It became, love. And I still want her to fight me to kiss her when I haven’t brushed my teeth.

But I don’t believe in marriage. Neither does she.

But she makes me want to marry the hell out of her.

Marry me.

 

- Contributed by Falafel

Tags: lesbian, love, relationships