She waited. . .
Her heart beating for him.
If words could explain she would go on but
She began to cuddle her high.. the smoke from the chimney decorating the atmosphere.. the green speaking to her insides.
Hidden faces, hidden feelings of her opening yet sacred emotions to her other part.
Would he ever know how much he meant to her?
Could she ever explain?
Found in her inner design of home, she held onto him.
No one else knew her like he did, she believed.
No one else could understand the heavy pieces of her drooling emotions. . .
She gave it to him, she shared it with him in her womb in her eyes and her heart.
She felt his touch from afar, and his words whispered to her. She followed his depth of expression though he was no where to be found.
Why him? She thought, it disturbed her mind.
Was it him or her.
His being felt like her own, her hidden and most dangerous desires floating in herself – smiles and prayer .. disaster would disappear.. tears and her comb.. ready to brush her hair.
Was he the man she thought he was, did she believe his existence in her was true.
Maybe the depth of it was much deeper to her..
That the hidden things she’ll keep hidden and the opened things she’d live with. .
Only he would know, to enter would be to always find the answers for there unspoken yet invisible seeing of eachother, taking it slow from within. To hold eachother the pieces that would soon grow old but the everlasting touch.
They didn’t wish to speak on it, it seemed like they both knew how the waterfalls were able to drown the splash and ripples that the flow found its rhythm in their presence.
Could it be so true as this, that quietness explained their passion – that touching eachother innocently revealed their softness towards life’s age. Ancient it was to them, but everyone else saw a different view.. they could not tell what was going on but the togetherness somehow intimidated the likeness of anything appearing as the image of infatuation or lust.
How could they share in this without becoming the madness of the inner circulation.. the pump of the spiritual pulse and the elegant movement of their shared soul.
His breath was her and hers his.. tears expressed their secrets in the open space of words – where home connected to its protection and love – there before them was another world. A place created by them.
He never wanted it to leave them, he always needed it.. he never wanted to let go.
His position found was what he never thought he would find.. that his every part could melt in another.. no judgement, he could be the scared passion – the vibration of strength – the numbness of a groan and the slowness of his own love becoming him in him for her and in them for eachother.
Could he really explain what he truly felt for her, could he ever show it. . . Maybe if she made everything else mean nothing and him be the meaning to both their reasonings and she be the forever words to his sacred and eternal heart. .
He’d never feel apart or alone from what he knows is his own.
She waited. . .