She looks at me differently this time-- more passionately. With a hunger denied for too long she finally reaches for me and we consummate a love that has smoldered for twelve years. Not in the frightened, reserved, and fascinated way that we came together as teenagers, but in the inflamed way that only adults who have yearned can properly aspire to do.
Ambiguous meetings, sweet promises, and glimpses of her in the distance, swaying her hips in casual salutations as she turns her attentions back to reality. Day breaks, responsibilities swell, and the dream of our love that has escalated all this time-- refusing to break its hold on me-- fades back into my heart. I suck it into me again-- the little glow of searing pain held so stoically inside.
Six months ago she finally pressed her lips to mine; a promise left unresolved and tingling. I vaguely wondered at the meeting-- why now? Twelve years of sidelong glances and whispers shrouded in disbelief, and she seizes my reservations without hesitation. I must be getting close to something, but I still fail to discern the meaning of the message. Drilling down on the emotion; will it be easy to see when it overcomes me?
My first love plays out scenes that would never exist except for here, in this world of vivid colors and aberrent snores. Always pools of water as she walks away... and this time, after the torrents of our passions are unleashed to their fullest-- tidal waves. Waiting for them to crash on my shores; willingly i will be swept away.
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