The first time he realized he loved me.
I don't even remember what we were talking about, but the way he said this one sentence will forever stick with me.
The joy on his face, in his eyes, the way he looked at me like i suddenly became the one and only world he has ever known...
The innocence and playful demeanor he has is quite charming. Makes me want to hold him and hide him inside my ribcage next to my heart so no one makes him sad. I want to smother him with kisses, leave bite marks all over his neck, his shoulders, his chest, wherever he lets me leave them. Want to hug him so tight my hesrt matches his when beating. To make sure he never forgets me even if I leave my flesh before him.
I want him to remember my scent. My perfume, my colors, my shapes, my tastes, anything he can remember about me. I want him to remember how my lips molded against his; the clumsy, shameless afection shared between lovers without a care in the world as if death will never cling to them.
that it is not just my flesh he loves.
He shows it to me, intentionally or unintentionally, that he doesn't carry lust in his heart solely for my body. Rather, his heart surrendered to my soul before it found the courage to lust after my body. He fell in love with me first, then came my flesh.
I desire him carnally sometimes. I need to bite into him, to taste his blood and tell him he's beautiful.
But there's another side to my love for him.
It's the one i show him mostly, because the other will scare him away. The other side of my adoration is borderline obsessive, a little cruel even, perhaps. The gentle side of my love is soft, tender; like he might break if I'm not careful. It's sweet— sticky but not overbearing, he has power over it which I believe he does not realize.
The other one, not so much.
Even I myself don't have much power over it if I'm being honest. It comes in waves, makes me crave everything he has allowed me to taste and dare crave more: his love, his lips, his affection, his silly humor, his vulnerability...
Oh, his vulnerability....
He has a frail heart, innocent and sweet. He lets me hold it in the palm of my hands, a beautiful gift from him. One that i cherish greatly. I feel all my anger at the world vanishing when i catch the sight of his heart in my hands.
I sometimes want to kiss it, let him feel my breath and see how much he means to me.
And other times, I want to sink my teeth into it amd leave holes in it in the shape of my teeth— a reminder for him. A reminder that his heart was caught once and I'm never letting go of it until death pries it out of my grip. Death may attempt to separate him from me, I shan't allow it. He means more than he could ever know to me and I refuse to let anything hurt him.
To express the mixture of emotions i feel watching his tears is to watch your heavenly world become a living hell tailored specifically for you.
Falling in love is messy work.
It's colorful, exciting, euphoric, scary. It stains whoever is involved. It doesn't come off.
People who fall in love forever carry pieces of each other because the stain of shared love doesn't come off.
I fell for him once, there is no going back for neither of us now.
