8/31/14

Skitt: until the river refuse to run, I love with a thousand suns

"You hold your heart while your sleeping." I guess there are worse ways to start off a conversation. "You startled me." "I seem to startle you every time I wake you up. And you hold your heart while you're asleep." But I can't think of a better way to start off my mornings. Secretly, I love waking up to their face in the morning. It might be what I live for, those 8 days out if the year where I get to wake up to them. Those rare days where I wake in their place and everything smells like them. It feels like them. There might be one day out of a year when we fall asleep together. They fall asleep first. My mind rushing with thoughts, worrying about every little thing in the silence of the night. I swear sometimes I think they can hear me thinking, which only makes me worry more. This goddess that exudes confidence is often too self conscious to sleep. So I fall asleep first most nights, while they are still out. Then when they come in it wakes me up and I often don't sleep the rest of the night. I am usually up first. I go for a swim most mornings to burn off all my nervous energy. Bring them breakfast while they're still asleep. My soft music and the sound of running water wakes them up. I am normally and ready to start my day by the time they're done eating. But once every blue moon I sleep, and they wake me up. I think they watch me sleep. Not that I mind, but I can see it. They roll over and just look at me for a minuet or two before waking me. What on earth they could be thinking while doing this is beyond me. But apparently they find sleeping me intriguing, "you hold your heart, with both hands, while sleeping." "it hurts. So I hold it, like a child holding a cut finger." Its true. I find that the world I live in is bitter sweet. Giving me just enough to want more, and a little more to get me hooked, but never enough to satisfy. My dreams are more like beautiful nightmares. A fantasy land so real, giving me exactly what I want. Only to wake and find none of it was real. Sucker punched night after night. Dreams so salty and sour are truly the cruelest tricks. "oh, I'm sorry. Someone broke it?" If only it was that easy. Broken piece can be mended in time. The process of mending takes just as long as healing and learning from each broken piece.  This is more like slow torture. Making superficial wounds and picking at them every day. Never allowing them to heal. They fester and grow. Salting them every so often so its never too bad. Just very painful. "no, both hands are there to protect my heart." "if no one broke it and you protect it, why does your heart hurt" no matter what I do I can't help falling in love. I choose to believe there are somethings you just can't control. Matters of the heart are one of those things. Why does it love who it loves? Why doesn't it love what's good for it? Why don't we ever agree with it? Why does the grinning bobcat grin? I love with a passion so fierce it hurts. " why is a moth drawn to a flame" they look at me and kiss my nose. I blush of course, hiding my face from them under the covers. I come out to them softly chuckling at me. I kiss them and start me day. Humming and floating about just as I do every morning with them. I am never so happy as I am these few days I spend with them. I softly sing to myself as I start the shower. Just as the water hits my face I wake up heart in hand.

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