He can’t even fathom the feeling of how my heart hangs heavy, pulling, weighing me down like an anchor drifting to the bottom of the ocean floor the second I feel the mattress dip down when he gets out of bed at night.
And that’s because I never know when or if he’ll ever come back.
Eventually that starts to take a toll on a person’s emotions. Mine in particular. I have days where I question myself. I have seconds, minutes, hours even where I lie awake, alone, in bed and worry. I’ve asked him time and time again why he has to leave at such a late hour and what he could possibly be doing but always get the same answer, “I can’t talk about it.”
I don’t know how much longer that answer is going to be enough for me.
I turn to face him and he press his hips against mine, pinning me against the kitchen counter.
For a moment time stands still.
We’re captivated.
Swimming in each other’s gazes.
Torn up and shredded by love, lust, and need.
His lips move so close to mine that I can feel their warmth, the heat. It takes everything in me not to press my lips against his. He rests his forehead against mine and my lips part. Then without breaking our gaze, he tucks a loose piece of hair behind my ear and whispers, “A-lainn” into my mouth.
It’s at that second I feel like I’m searing from the inside out.
Almost to the point where I’m over-cooked.
Done for.
Finally, his left hand slides up my thigh, up my nightgown, over my hip, and rests on my butt. I move closer. I need his lips on mine. I want to feel lost in his kiss. I want to feel wrapped up and warm by our love and our tangled limbs.
I want to say, please…
I want to say touch me.
In all the right places.
Kiss me…
Deeply…
Lovingly…
Passionately.
But he doesn’t give me the chance to say anything.
Our mouths collide.
Our tongues entwine.
Our breaths are short and raspy.
In one swift motion he picks me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. We make our way to the bedroom kissing and kissing and kissing until he lies me down on the bed. I love the way his eyes touch my face like no other part of my body matters. I love how he can be so fierce yet soft at the same time. More than anything I love that when we’re intimate it never feels dirty or raunchy.
Sometimes it feels like I’m floating toward the ceiling.
I’m a balloon full of helium and I know that he’ll catch me and pull me back down before I float too high.
I shed my night gown quickly as he takes off all his clothes. Then he positions himself on top of me and the moment are lips are unified and our bodies connected he moans against my mouth, “I love you.”
I pull out of the kiss for a brief moment and get lost in gaze once again.