Make Love not War (19/09/2008)

827-fullAlone at last. The air around us was hushed and lit only by a dim and unobtrusive guide that would not belie to anyone as it danced, urging us perhaps to surrender. But who was surrendering? Inside I screamed, half torn apart by insecurities, a wounding enemy and euphoria as the candlelight drifted past my gaze. Focus regained, I felt calm with a warm tender touch, almost hesitant. My hopes wanted it to be sincere, my inner turmoil made it more an unattractive suspicion.

The candle snapped a pleasant sooth and when I had turned from it once more his knees were around mine. I felt safe and wanted even though the tentative approaches and his eyes kept me bubbling; doubting, questioning, till I almost could cry. Was he so right? The person I had dreamed of after having come this far on a journey both within myself and outside, losing much along the way. What an ironic reward this would be if tinged with fears and marred by my demons. Would his blue eyes fight them? Would his quiet touch dismiss it all? I steal back my gown as they begin to eat me alive.

Strong hands brushed up against my arms and gently removed my shield, some of my trembles and most of my heart’s ache. Instinctively my arms reached to cover myself before understanding brought them down but held them frail against his hands; frail on their own but with a strength that echoed my internal army hitherto sleeping. When I called they didn’t wake. I summon myself and all I have and fear drives me lest I lose him too. Longing drives me. He drives me but I am on my own, yet, I don’t feel alone.

My mind savours memories, ideas and notions in a scrapbook made when the warmth, understanding, tolerance and longing he has were thousands of miles away… surely that was enough even now? If not, let me be swallowed whole where I sit. To lose is terrifying but to lose after all this would be like death.

A mile of racing thoughts matched my heart’s pulse; rapid and urgent, desperate, sometimes petrifying. Time gets lost. He was still there, his knees gently squeezing mine as he moved to maybe to go find an excuse. Maybe, as he leaned forward into my neck and I felt the prickles where his arm once was, he just wants to feel my hair or maybe, as he brushes past it and pulls me toward him with noses brushing and foreheads caressing, he just might kiss me. Garbed thoughts, past tensions and badgering niggles are swept away by a buzz, a sense of being, a cosy familiarity -him. Rapid waves of another kind swiftly take hold and I give in and throw my caution in its awful mask to the wind. A caution that dressed my scar, my wants and my needs and hid them from my view. A caution that could have cost me dearly and lost me the only thing I ever really tried to win after suffering heavy defeats.

My demons rage again when assaulted. Teased by their enemy’s searching hands. His needing hands? Needing me? I still can’t believe it. their habit is assuaged when warm streams drown them out and his hands, these hands, try to make me his own. I want them to hold me and shield me. Let their generous form devour me until they become like a second skin to mine, to hold whenever and forever and as long as they want me to want them.

I wake from a dream, sweating and shaking, but the dream still ran through me in small, colourful sensations that pulsated through my veins. Tender, sensual images ran up my sides and with an avarice, slid down my flesh and pulled me with him. A need that was sometimes greedy, but well tamed, tried to take me all at once with  a gentle longing trying to capture me forever.  I saw the same blue eyes before they disappeared when he swept  down my body. I felt wanted, needed, protected, peaceful and cared for; the best a love has to offer I remembered. I met his eyes again as he came back  to kiss me, and it was then that I realised I had not been dreaming – it was in fact reality.


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