he looked beyond the gate

He looked beyond the gate, stunned. She was walking towards him, her face marred by the leaves of the trees lined along the sidewalk, the metal bars that were slowly rolling open. Her hair was longer than he remembered, brown, not the blonde he remembered. It surprised him. He remembered it brown, but that was a long time ago. She was smaller, her body has changed into something older, something with more ripeness. This wasn’t the child he remembered. Gone was the bounce in her step, the floating-like quality she used to exude with her confidence. She walked with purpose now, and was headed straight for him.

But her eyes, those hadn’t changed. He caught glimpses through the brown branches, her blue eyes detectable, like contrasts only nature could build. She had a sad smile on her face, it seeping into a frown as she grew closer to him, it was obvious then that something had gone wrong. He felt the air leave his chest, ice dropping into the deepest pits of his body, his feet felt as heavy as boulders.

He stopped walking, waiting for her to slowly stride up to him, not sure why she was even there. He hadn’t seen her for months and months, she left him. She tucked a brown strand behind her ear, shyly, unsure, her eyes dodging from spot to spot as if looking for an escape. But that didn’t make any sense. Her very appearance startled him.

“Well, aren’t you a surprise?” he said quietly, his throat dry with confusion. He licked his lips, thrusting his hands into his pockets, not sure what to do with them

“Hi,” she replied.

The emotion that seeped out of that single word hit him like thunder, he shook down to his feet. He pushed his hands deeper into his pockets, making fists, knowing his knuckles were whitening.

She looked at him, noticing his discomfort, damn her. He looked away from her, past her, watching the cars drive by slowly on the street they were standing on. Some slowed as they gazed over at them, making him more uncomfortable. He fidgeted his hands inside his pockets, the denim rubbing roughly against his skin.

He looked back at her, catching her staring at him. She bit her lip. He hated when she did that. His resolve was depleting.

“I…couldn’t do it,” she said, eyes clouding, glistening.

He didn’t need an explanation. He knew what she meant. His face darkened as he thought about what to say next.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she continued, reading his thoughts.

Stealing them more like it, he blustered from within his mind. How did she do that?

He found his voice, meek as it was. “What would you like me to do?”

She turned her head around, looking behind her, gazing out over at the bluish skies, the grey clouds hovering over the mountains in the distance, causing their trouble.

“I don’t think you can, really,” she answered, her head still turned away from him “Do anything…”

The answer frustrated him, but he stayed, rooted to the spot. She was there for a reason, that much was plain. But even he wasn’t sure what it could be. It was heartbreaking to look at her, to look at the years they had spent together, to look at this woman who had changed so much from when he first saw her. For a moment, he saw the anxiousness of youth in her flushed cheeks as she wrapped her arms around her body.

“Come,” he said, not sure if this was the right decision, holding out his hand, the cool air starting to claw its way up his arm.

“Where are we going?” she asked timidly.

He looked down at her sternly, her back straightening in response.

“I’m sorry…I…don’t know what to do…or say…” she sputtered, the wind catching her words, taking them away.

He took her hand firmly, curling his fingers through her delicate ones.

“So don’t,” he whispered, “And just come with me.”  

he touched her shoulders

He touched her shoulders. Inhaling her sweet scent of vanilla and flowers. They were soft, and smooth, skin of a goddess. Maybe that was what she was, but it didn’t bother him. Tonight, maybe forever, she was his. And whatever she was, he would devour her all and all, without the slightest hesitation, even if it meant it might kill him, it might begin something within him that might never end. 

He rubbed a hand down one of her shoulders, feeling the tender soft skin under his calloused hands. She moved into his hand, welcoming the warmth, mumbling somewhere in between sleep and wake. He looked at her back, watching all her muscles come alive every time she breathed. Her hair was splayed messily across her beige pink skin, the brown in deep contrast to it. He ran his finger tips over on her back, spelling out words, like the game he used to play as a child on the playground. Spell out the word, and have the other person guess what it was. She giggled quietly, ticklish and sexy.

He brushed his lips over the small of her back, skin cold from lack of a cover, him having taken off the white bed sheet she had had around her during the night. Goosebumps prickled her skin. He touched his lips to a hip, feeling her jut forward slightly, another rumble of laughter coming from above his head. He felt her move, lay on her side, looking down at him through waves of curly hair. He looked at her red lips, plump with pleasure, a bottom corner tucked into her teeth. Her eyes were bright with confusion, not sure what he was trying to do. 

He put his chin on her thigh, grinning up at her, his hands on both sides of her legs. He moved his fingers, the tips of them tickling her gently again. She moved a hand, brushing a curly brown strand behind her ear, revealing pink cheeks, flush with excitement. Her smile was timid, shy, unexpecting. She reached down to touch his face, but he pulled his head out of the way, just beyond her reach. Annoyance flickered across her face, annoyed that he was playing with her, toying with her. He smiled, holding a finger to his lips, kissing it, and touching his fingers to her belly. 

He moved over her, crawling up her sides, putting his weight on her body. She rolled on to her back, her hands by her face, a peak of a smile trying to edge into her mouth. He hovered over her, leaning on his elbows, his face just above hers. He kissed her forehead, her eyes closed, awaiting the next place. She arched her back just barely, touching her hips into his. He moved his way in between her thighs. He kissed the side of her head, again inhaling vanilla and flowers, feeling her giggle radiate all throughout her body. It vibrated. He looked into her glowing eyes. 

He kissed her mouth, tasting honey, nectar, wondering what it must be like, what it would be like to taste this every day, every morning. He leaned on her chest, feeling warm mounds underneath him, moving up and down with every slow, easy breath. He curled his fingers through her soft hair, brushing his thumb over her cheeks, the side of her head, looking at her sleepy eyes, not yet fully awake. A sleepy smile that hadn’t fully awaken yet. He kissed her nose and she smiled shyly, jutting her chin up, trying to get him to kiss her again. 

He moved his hands to hers, intertwining his fingers through hers, and kissed her again. He kissed her deeply, breathing life into it, taking life from it. He felt his heart hammer against his chest, against her chest, his eyes tightly shut, he couldn’t see her, but he could feel her. He moved his hands, stretching out her arms, holding them tightly above his head. 

He buried his head into her neck, whispering, whispering, wondering, wondering, waiting, waiting. 

Waiting.   
_

he would be crushed

He would be crushed. Because she lied. Because she moved faster. Because it’s another reminder of why he’s different, not worth the effort.

But these are dark paths that have no real meaning except the understanding that he is voluntarily causing his own heart break.

Why can’t he be angry at her, he wonders. Why he can’t resent her for the decisions she made, those that were not in anyone’s best interests, he remembers.

She was gone so quickly. Life changed so quickly. And he understands, and knew then that it would be a struggle, the effort. And while he can do it, sometimes he just doesn’t. And sometimes he does. But even now he knows that it wasn’t enough. They needed more, because they were more. He was unique, and so was she. So the solution cannot be, could not be the same, it has to be unique as well.

She is lonely, he can hear it. Depressed and disappointed in the changes she’s made. And yes this violent monster erupts when he thinks about her moving on because she should be moving towards him, back with him. Is this him holding on to her? Because he knows she doesn’t think, feel like this.

But he still wants to know what she thinks about. Is it him? Is it how she ages, her own age? Her mistakes? A fear, that in trying so hard to be risk free of the world, the biggest risk involved no reasoning? She was right in that it was, is difficult. But he thinks it’s more so for her, and in his heart, he knows she needs him to be there, pulling him through it. So it remains an open wound, because they are not near each other enough to close it.

So unless one of them makes a move, it will never be closed.

…