Your lips are a whispered wind caressing my cheek. A soft breeze or a violent gale, it can change in an instant. Tempting. Coaxing. Blowing me in different directions and then switching abruptly. I stumble keeping up, blown in circles from a perfect tornado. I create my own storm. Pushing back. Probing for the responses I want. Sometimes our breaths coalesce and become one air mass of its own. Keeping perfect time with the currents in our stratosphere.
And other times the silence from our mouths clashes and creates a frightening tempest. Caught off balance I am ripped from your arms. The whirlwind throws us every which way-closer and apart-but we remain silent. Closed lipped and bearing fake smiles. The strength of the wind behind our lips will only grow in intensity. We can't keep on like this or we will be blown apart forever. But my greatest fear is to open my mouth, for that would unleash the full blast of this gale. Now after waiting so long will we be able to withstand its hurricane strength force? I know that tempest will be abrupt and when it is over all will be calm. But what if you are blown away? I don't think I will be able to keep even the slightest breeze in my lips after that.
No comments:
Post a Comment