He feels like Sundays. He feels like the warm sunshine in fall slipping through the heavy wooden blinds. He feels like relaxation in your bones, and he feels easy. You whisper to him at night when his eyes are closed and his breath is long and slow. You ask him where the stars in his eyes came from. You ask him who made him so perfect. You ask him about the winters that stretch out in front of the two of you. You ask him if he'll always be there when the wind is cold and the trees are free from their leaves.
He feels warm, like Saturday nights with friends from forever ago and laughter that floats up through the air. He feels like long conversations that last six days and he feels like fleece blankets. He feels like every maybe you've ever wondered about, he feels like every hopeful pause you've ever taken, and he feels like every single deep breath you've ever needed.
He feels a little bit like all of your tomorrows, and he kind of feels like the best puzzle piece you've ever lost come back to you. He feels like maybe you could jump in with both feet - not just the toes you've been leaping with. He feels like you could really wrap up your entire heart, put it on a platter, and hand it off to him. Even though you're not quite sure how it's supposed to work, and even though you're not really quite sure if this is how it's all supposed to be, you still offer yourself to him. All of you.
It's all quite terrifying. You'll be scared. He'll be scared. And you'll walk through the weeds with one eye closed and the other half open. You'll step gingerly over old land mines and past heartaches and sad stories. His hand will be warm in yours and you'll sort of think that maybe - just maybe - as long as you can feel his hand wrapped around yours, maybe you'll make it.
Days will shuffle past like cards in a deck, and deeper, and deeper, you'll fall. Your prayers will float up through the darkness and you will beg for time to slow. You will give thanks for him. The sheets next to you will be warm and it will feel like finally -
After years and years of searching -
After years of looking just past the light -
After years of feeling defeated and not good enough and broken -
It will feel like you have finally ...
. About Moi .
I love, love, love flannel sheets and I am really passionate about lists on post it notes and most of the time I'm sad that no one else is as excited as I am about Diet Mountain Dew. I also adore run-on sentences.
He saw her before he saw
anything else in the room.
- F. Scott Fitzgerald
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