NOTICE: All of my previous posts have been nonfiction. All about me and my life and my emotions and blah blah blah. So! I've decided to mix it up and throw in some fiction. This is a letter from a man to his wife who went missing. He's been searching for her for years and refuses to move on and remarry the girl he has been seeing for the past 4 years, in hopes of one day finding his wife. It's about love that is undying and worth a fight. Pretty much. Yep, that's the gist. Hope you enjoy! If not, I'll understand.
Your footprints were left on my carpet, driveway, and heart. Dance in the darkness with my hands to the sky, smokey rooms coating my lungs. All I can picture is your hips in my hands, swaying with me. Tapping on the door of my heart like I'd answer. Even if I tried. The music is too loud to hear you breathing by the window.
I'm all out of synonyms for tonight. She'll be the one scratching down my back, exploring my mouth, my chest, my body. She'll have me entwined in the same sheets you used to dance under. The same bed we shared, the same pillows to support our minds.
Your breath will leave steam on the bedroom window and the heart you drew there will remind me tomorrow morning that you used to be her. That you still have my heart. And my favorite t-shirt. You tried giving it back but somehow I figured you'd need it more than me. I'll be pretty impossible for the rest of my days and you never seemed to be intimidated by that. You took my fingers, palms, arms, torso, legs, toes, mind and heart apart and studied each one like you were getting ready for a pop quiz. You'd be the only one to pass.
Cars go by. Girls come and go. Yet, every morning I wake up to a new heart on my window. My bedroom window is all filled up. Same with all of the ones in the kitchen. Last night you migrated to the living room. How many can you spare? I got used to your hearts being a tradition of my mornings, a reminder throughout the days, and a heartbreak at night when she's in my arms and I can all too easily feel your eyes, see your tears, and hear your hearts beating, getting ready to break the glass, vibrating my walls.
I don't think she knows.
Unless she's good at keeping secrets ...
or just plain doesn't care.
How can I keep this up? She's bound to hear you one night, see you, feel how my touch is getting bored, notice my wandering eyes. They'll land on your eyes, those vibrant blue eyes. And my heart. She'll feel it skip and imagine it's for her. Your touch, your kiss. I have to take breaths in between to remind myself it's not a dream. It's too much to deny.
I'll lay here, provide her with a body pillow, a kiss on the cheek, a touch below her hips, in between her legs. And when she cums, my eyes will be closed and my heart will be yearning and praying for her to one day be you. I'll just stay in slow motion, waiting for our chance, waiting for our nights filled with movement and moments and passion and love and something more. That same something more that you never cease to provide even when you're not in sight.
Until then, I'll just continue to wish
upon
stars
and eyelashes
and count the clouds that dare to pass.
This is honestly one of the most beautiful things you've ever written.
ReplyDeleteYou have so much talent. Promise me you won't ever let it go to waste?