The Art of Bending Myself With Him At Night
I looked at him when he fell asleep. I memorized the breath as his chest rose and fell. The way his lashes fluttered back and forth like a butterfly. How smoothly his skin looked when it’s been untouched by my hands. I memorized how his cheeks turned a slight color red. My body was a secret that I wanted him to know. He was the truth and I was the dare, the one thing he wouldn’t do. Or so I thought. I looked at him the way a child looks at their mother.
I’m the parallel lines going ways of my own. Traveling where my heart and passions are next to each other. Some days, not so much. Jealousy and clinginess make me lose interest quickly, that when I end up pushing the person off my path. Standing at a crossroad, I slowly become perpendicular.
For him, I’ve memorized the way he makes my heart feel when his hands are touching me. And he’s memorized the way I take him down as if I’m a tiger taking their prey down.
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