I would kill to hold your hand. Just grab it, and feel your fingers interlock in mine.
I am not a hand holder. This isn’t something we normally do, but the moment feels so right. The laughter in the air, the fresh smell of nature, the cool wind. It’s a beautiful day.
It suddenly feels like you are so far away. Further, than I would like you to be, further than you usually are. You are a creature of heat, always seeking warmth. It exasperates me sometimes. Cold feet under my thighs, cool fingers under my shirt, on my neck. I am used to it though. Years of feeling your body pressed next to mine, shoulders bumping, hips brushing. I suddenly miss it. The feel of you next to me.
The beauty of where we are can’t be denied, but I am distracted by the thought of missing you even when you are right next to me.
I need you a little closer. It shouldn’t be like this.
I glance at you and my heartaches. The way the orange sun hits the side of your face. I have never written poetry about your face, your body, your being, but I could write sonnets right now. I could create an album about you at this moment and the way you make me feel. Something like golden brown perfection. It sounds better in my head.
I turn back around. Feeling tense despite the tranquillity of the space we are occupying.
I would kill to kiss you. Nothing sensual. Just a quick peck, bring your head next to mine and place a kiss on your forehead.
The sudden affection is overwhelming and my body vibrates with a series of wants.
You tell me something, but I am too preoccupied with containing.
You repeat.
“Let’s go somewhere,” you say quietly, almost inaudibly.
The tone of your voice pulls my attention. You sound a little sad. I gaze at you. You smile, your face twisting into open fondness. I can see myself in you. Is this how I am looking at you?
“Let’s go somewhere no one knows us,” You tell me.
I am struck at the softness of the moment.
The place is beautiful. Striking. Photography of the year worthy. But you preoccupy me in entirety.
I find that I would rather be sitting in our almost too small living room, holding you close. Chasing your lips if I wanted. Playfully grabbing at your hand. And brushing casual kisses on the length of your body.
I nod, and find words to reply back to you.
“A place where no one cares about us.”
You grin at me brightly. The feeling flares up again. My fingers twitch. My lips tingle.
We turn back. Leaving the beauty behind us. Not caring to glance back.
I feel you shift closer to me. Shoulder pressing into mine, hands touching briefly.
I hold back a smile.
You have always been braver than me.
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