Tell me. When did you become so important to me?
When did mine become ours and alone time, us time?
When did your smell become so familiar to me or your touch become so necessary to me?
When did your smile become so treasured to me or hearing you laugh like a prize to me?
How did I sleep before when I wasn’t tangled with you and my lips pressed up against your neck, breathing you in? Skin on top of skin.
How did I enjoy the journey before when I wasn’t holding your hand with your other on the steering wheel whilst we listen to the music we love in perfect silence?
When did I start waking up to the thought of you and wondering if you slept well? Or if you woke up thinking about me?
When did seeing you become like a drug to me and leaving you so hard for me?
That look. That look you have on your face? It undoes me.
Scatters me and before I have time to bend down and gather myself, you kiss me. So soft and tender like a gentle breeze on a hot day, it caresses me.
And then you touch me. Your rough palms graze the side of my face and I feel my cheek grow warm and my insides melt and I squirm underneath your feel because you unnerve me. Looking at me and kissing me like you own me, I belong to you. You possess me.
And even on the days when you don’t look at me so intensely, kiss me so passionately or touch me so tenderly I am still enamoured beyond belief. You mesmerise me.
How do I make you feel?
Like, I’m temporary, as if I won’t last forever and so you pour all your time, energy and love into me and hold me so tight that I might disappear between your fingers like grains of sand. You make me feel transient, fleeting, like an eclipse or the northern lights. Something to behold and wonder at because you can’t fathom how you can be so close to something so beautiful and yet so far.
You say my name like its precious, you roll it across your tongue slowly like you’re trying to decipher it, like it’s a foreign language you need to learn. You say it often as if the very sound of it reaffirms you. As if to convince yourself that I really do exist.
How do I make you feel?
You make me feel infinite. You make me feel warm and safe and loved and treasured. You silence all those voices in my head that say I’m not good enough or pretty enough or even just enough because you make me feel more than I ever have.
You terrify me. I hear the clock ticking every time we’re together, faint but audible. I feel my heart beat faster every time you touch me. I feel my jealousy rise every time you speak to another girl because I’ve never had something that was just mine. You make me feel undeserving because I don’t know how I have been so lucky to find someone who looks at me like Im magic. Who stares at me in the dark when he thinks I’m asleep but I’m really listening to the sound of his heart beat and clutching onto his chest so tight it’s a wonder he can even breathe.
How do I make you feel?
Baby, you make me feel important. Like everything I say is gospel you listen so intently and agree so heartily and laugh so loudly at it. You look at me and shake your head and call me ‘silly’ and hit me playfully, any excuse to touch me.
You make me feel sexy. That look in your eyes as we lie in bed like you’ve been starved of me. Your eyes are hooded and your breathing laboured as you become undone in the presence of me. You run your hands across my body and knead my skin like it were dough. I feel the current beneath your fingertips as you trail them across my side, up my neck and rest my face in the palm of your hand. Home.
You make me feel safe. As if all the evil in all the world is knocking at our door but they can’t come in because I’m with you. As if the thunder and the rain can’t strike us or soak us because we’re inside, under the covers. And you’re whispering to me.
How do I make you feel?
As if words aren’t enough.
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He was nice, safe and dependable. He didn’t set her on fire. The thought of him didn’t twist her into knots but he was a good guy, that’s all anybody ever said about him. She didn’t want to seem ungrateful but she knew he would never be enough for her and she had to come to terms with that. Days passed, months, each as uneventful as the previous. He was not spontaneous or even exciting. He was happy to curl up in front of the television and she next to him, ignoring the hum from the television, dreaming of being somewhere, anywhere else. It was a miserable existence, a mundane reality. She felt like an exotic bird, caged and kept, admired but never truly appreciated. She longed to be inspired and thrilled, she acted out from time to time so as to illicit a reaction from him but he never rose to the bait. He was a moderate man in every sense of the word. Moderation was not her forte, she thrived on excess and chaos, she fed off of it. He had made sense to her at first. She naively thought a man like him would calm her down, force her into some semblance of normality but he drove her further towards vice. Her fantasies were now so vivid she could taste them, her cravings rose like blood in her throat and she revelled in the way they felt on her tongue, warm and tingling. She came alive in the night time, she lived through the dark. He slept next to her, snoring lightly and unmoving, even the way he slept was boring to her. He watched him with a confusing mix of endearment and disgust. He was not hers and she wasn’t his. They were two people living alongside each other but not quite together.
She sat down at the kitchen table and watched the ice melt into her brandy. A little breeze lifted the hem of her barely-there night wear. A slutty little piece of lingerie that went unnoticed as usual. She could have sworn she saw his eyes widen slightly as she walked towards the bed but he didn’t reach out to touch her, he didn’t grab her thighs and knead them roughly as he sank his teeth into her neck. He didn’t leave a trail of saliva across her collarbone as he tried to devour her almost whole. He smiled, turned to his side and switched off the light.
She picked up the tumbler and swilled her drink around, her mind wandering, as it often did….
She was barely through the door when she felt his large hands snake around her waist, enclosing her in a vice like grip. She struggled to breathe and gasps of air turned to gasps of pleasure and his hands found their way up her skirt. Her legs shook, her knees buckled but he held her steady and firm as he led her towards the bedroom. He always undressed her first. He peeled off her clothes painfully slowly as if it were the last time he would ever do so. The palms of his hands were rough against her skin, he could feel his calluses against her back. He always demanded eye contact and she always agreed. She swore she could see the lust in his eyes as the last of her clothes slid onto the floor. She loved and feared him at the same time. He was a man in every way imaginable, at times he was pre-historic but he shortcomings were forgotten every time he looked at her. His eyes welled with emotion and it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention and bristle as if a breeze was blowing but they had already sucked out all the air in the room.
She put down her drink and the ice clinked loudly, the brandy burned the back of her throat and she relished in the pain. These days, it was the only thing that kept her warm at night.