golden haze

I think he whispered “I love you” to me last night, his face half an inch from mine, his dark eyes occasionally opening to look at me, his wet lips parted in a slight grin as if he still can’t believe we’re here, together-

holding each other as one song morphs into another and the surrounding silence envelops the space between us in a warm cloud of golden haze.

I’m not exactly sure where I was then, perhaps half on earth and half in heaven, my body still buzzing from all the pleasure, relaxing into the magic we create when we come together.

I’m not exactly sure if I was dreaming or awake-

lately both have felt the same.

serendipity

making plans for breakfast after we’ve been lounging in bed for a few hours

kisses have been shared and fingertips have explored

earlobes and back of necks and the curve of the spine

we have discussed deal-breakers

almost as if to confirm to the other

how perfect it is for the two of us

to be together,

we have discussed how odd it is

for life to be made up of numerous

seemingly random choices and events,

what I suppose most people would call fate.

 

Then he gets out of bed and opens the blinds to let the light in

and I open the door and find in front of me

a brand new beginning.

hallelujah

We sweat out the sheets

lose our breath trying to keep up with passion

misplace fingertips to find places that

gift shivers down the spine

and lend lips to the other in an

offering of pleasure.

 

This bed is our temple

where we call out to God

with eyes closed

in the hope that we

can stay in this heaven

forever.

 

exclusivity agreement

he has no terms

gives without conditions

wants me as I am

unedited, faults and all,

and to offer me anything I want

whenever I want

all he asks for is three things:

my company, attention, and affection.

 

easy. no complications.

 

Meanwhile

I draft four pages of desires

in what I know is a futile attempt to exert control

over the possibility of another heartbreak.

 

And all he wants in return is my love.

 

love language

he undresses my mind first and

takes his time handling my heart

he brings me flowers in the evening

and coffee in the morning

and asks for nothing in return except for

my love.

He doesn’t gift crumbs.

He doesn’t gift silences.

He shows up and opens doors

and looks at me as if he could see

my soul.

His touches are both fire and warmth

and his mouth speaks to me in a different tongue

I’ve always known but never quite

understood before.

He is not from around here

but he’s quickly starting to feel

like home.

Tonglen

He pulled her out into the street and with his arm around her waist, he started to sway both their bodies back and forth, a crooked smile on his face giving away his intentions.

Her feet fumbled to follow along, which made her feel grateful that their only audience then were the rows of bushes lit up in Christmas lights. It was 2 a.m. and they were drunk, but the thrill of sharing a silent dance in the middle of the street with a stranger  was far more intoxicating than all the alcohol ingested in the last couple of hours. And lucky for him, she had always been a sucker for magic and romance. For silent nights and all the possibilities in life that leads one to connect with a total stranger.

So she let him hold her small palms in his rough hands and inched herself closer to get high off his suffering, moving her body right along to his unbalanced feet as she breathed in his pain and breathed out comfort. Tonglen. A lion’s roar could’ve been heard coming from her heart then- it you had been around and were connected enough to listen.

She understood how darkness felt.

She knew he needed saving.

And as luck would have it, sometimes she liked to switch parts and become someone else’s savior for a change. Every now and then she needed to be the one who was seen as strong.

Playing Damsel in Distress was starting to get old.

What type of warrior are you?

Another dagger in the heart

You’d think by now that 

I’d have learned how 

to use my shield,

how to wield my sword…

Guess I’m just not

the type of warrior 

who fights off love.