"Skin and kisses."

Cleaning out my external hard drive this afternoon and stumbled upon pages and pages and pages of old writing that I’d mostly forgotten about. I originally wrote and posted this on April 19, 2007 on a blog that no longer exists. Reposting because I’m feeling nostalgic. 

PS. This is about Chris. We’ve come a long way in the last 6 years.  

His hands fit the curves of my waist as if I was sculpted specifically for him to touch me. 

Wait. I think I’m getting a little ahead of myself. 

So there’s this guy with chocolate eyes and cinnamon skin whose heartbeat cradles me to sleep at night. Sometimes I find myself sinking into the creases of his smile, melting into the contours of his bones. The sound of his laughter reverberates in my pulse, and often I’m caught by the mere inflections of his speech. I’m so attracted to the talent that pours through his fingertips. As if there’s a life force hiding in the creases of his knuckles, sleeping in the wrinkles of his fingertips, merely waiting to be spilled onto any surface placed in front of him. There are times when I just wish he would glide his palms along my flesh and mold me into something better or something beautiful. Something worth him. 

Lately I’ve been a little captivated with this life that lies tangent to my own. Suddenly I’m at an intersection with someone whose passion is racing fiercely against my own, and the heat is so intense that I’m almost intimidated to continue. I’m afraid that eventually one of us will burn out and leave the other trailing behind. There are some afternoons that I’ll spend taking naps in his arms and breathing in the faint scent of his skin pressed against my own, and I wonder if those fragments of contentment are worth their inevitable end. You know, realistically speaking. But I guess that’s the whole point of life. Better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, right? Not that this is love, though, this is just an introduction. The quote just fits. 

Anyways, I guess this is relevant news because I’ve never been with someone who left me small kisses on the nape of my neck to wake up to. I’ve never been with someone who didn’t talk to me with words thick with charm and dripping with deceit. I just don’t think I’ve ever been with someone worth being with, as terrible as that might sound. Looking back on my pathetic dating past, I wouldn’t take the malice back. And though I’m not even “with” this guy, whatever that’s supposed to mean, so far he’s the only one who’s felt worth the time I’ve been spending with him. 

It’s been a fast life with heavy days and hours that stretch from early in the morning to late at night, but I’ve been happy. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.