Stretch. Growth.
How does one classify the human entity, hoisting them up to a pedestal of judgement?
My beauty covers herself in fear that I will scrutinize her every crinkle, her every crease, her every line of disdain in which she inhabits.
How do I stop this?
I love her, oh god, how I adore her.
She sits next to me, scribbling away in her journal of enigmas; I cannot round the courage to swish back a strand of hair that now dangles by her hypnotic eyes.
"Stop staring at me," she looks up, her doe gaze entices my very will to breathe in oxygen, and not sulfur.
"No, you doll!" I say. She giggles, and puts her journal down. I clear my throat. "You were writing about me."
"I was, I was...how'd you know?" She bites her plush lips; funnily, I no longer see the bottom half of her front teeth, for they are enveloped in the ribbon that was edged with a rose briar, her lips that are inviting me in.
I sit there, dazed. "You get this funny look on your face that reminds me of newfound enlightenment," why did I say that?
"You just made that up! Ha!" She throws a pillow at me, and as she prepares for her next attack, lifting her cold hands up in the brisk air in her bedroom, I grab her arms and pull her on top of me. We stay like that for a while. Her white washed slacks are the only thing stopping me from her doom.
I let my fingertips slide around the rim of her slacks, telling her with my pleading eyes I want her, desperately.
She knows, and she gets off of me. She sits on the edge of the bed, head in her dainty hands.
"I can't, you know that."
"Why can't you?"
"I...just...I mean...you won't want me anymore."
Not want her anymore? No, I don't want want her so terribly that I also don't want my right hand.
"What are you talking about? Mar?"
"It's just...I am not...beautiful on the outside."
Oh darling, you outshine the sun, your visage makes the mountains grow taller, your curves spear every heart ever known to be speared in the course of history. You're the clap of thunder, you're the strike of lightening. You're timeless.
"What are you hiding?" I reach for her hand.
She laughs, spitefully. "Genetics, mostly. The scars of growth...I'm not as beautiful as you may think, Matty..."
"Let me..." I inch her back in her bed. I sit in front of her now, unbuttoning her slacks, all the while she looks away, ashamed.
I slide them off. Just like that. She lays on her side, and I see them.
Bolts of energy.
River beds, seen from above from space.
Rays of light, shining through a crystal pond.
Dancing streaks painted by the hand of maturity and womanhood herself.
"They're pretty," I say.
"Shut up, they're not."
"No, really, I like the way they look...they're cool."
"They're anything but."
I lay there, next to Mar. She's so nice. Stretches all over her buttocks seem to intrigue me just as much as her song intrigues the chords of my soul. I slowly follow the outlines of her personal routes along her hip, tracing lightly with my finger tip. I'm tracing the gaseous, cloudy outlines of Jupiter itself. Right here in Manchester. "They're beautiful."
She smiles. She knows she cannot say anything that will make me change my mind in the slightest. The sun returns the flaring warmth back to her cheeks. "Thank you."
We lay there, staring at the white ceiling.
~~
Dreaming is always a fascinating experience.
Waking up is the hardest thing to do.
But dreaming with your eyes open, nostalgic to the passing, fleeting memories that seem to haze in your mind... Torturous.
It has been over one year since I have seen her. For four hundred and seventy two days, I have not ceased to ponder upon her, her words, her lips, her laugh, her doe eyes, her being. I miss her.
I'm seeing her tonight. My North Star is now the star of the show, her song of passion being played on her medium of choice. I hope she remembers me. I play around with the paper edges of the ticket that will take me to witness the blooming of my love.
Our own stretch, its stopping time long overdue, has shown me the true meaning of desperation. My growth, has been one of appreciation.
Hers was lined up against her skin, jaggedness curved her body, making for her body to mimic that if the great planet of Jupiter.
Mine was cracked throughout my miles of travel, insubordination reeking from its substance compared to her graceful, rotating grandeur.
I hope she remembers me.
Oh god, I hope she remembers me.
