You Turned Up The Gravity
To me there was always a disconnect between
pressing a pair of saliva swathed strips of
possibly chapped flesh together,
blinding myself,
and allowing someone past my bright pink safety bubble all in
the name of intimacy.
The possibility of onion-bagel breath and
carbon dioxide suffocation outweighed every possible benefit
of kissing you.
But then yesterday,
you pressed your back against an old, peeling school desk
and hid your sleepless eyes under the shadow of your elbow.
I couldn't stop looking at you, and your lips.
Little bands of salmon fabric glued above a brave superman chin.
My eyes traced the lines of your arm-
Little blue highways, or streams, or maybe
The threads that kept you together
(no wonder you're so strong)-
To the neckline of your cotton tee with your dad's band's name
scrawled across your chest. Your collarbone, a deep divot
a trench where my mouth could find perfect refuge.
Your neck, the only home to me at the moment
although I've never once lived there without staining the floor with salt.
It's heat pressed against my icy nose...
And the lilt of your breath on my ear...
And my fingers threaded through the mess of curls at your nape
Reminds me that no, I am not falling apart,
I'm falling into you.
And falling is terrifying, I...
I don't have a parachute.
You turned up the gravity so
It's up to you to catch me, but you have no idea that I'm even falling.
You're simply laying there, covering your chocolate glacier eyes
oblivious
while I'm staring at you, and
Feeling magnetism between my body and yours
My face pulling -no- straining towards yours and I push
my hand into the wall above you to brace myself against your gravitational pull,
but it's strong and I'm weak and I'm begging myself not to give in
not to press my own saliva swathed strips of possibly chapped flesh against yours
I wanted to kiss you.
Despite the hazards,
despite the laundry list of downsides spewing out my ears
I want to kiss you.
And I've never been so terrified.
