Strings Attached

July 6, 2012

With one simple sweep of his fingers across the soft bone of my cheek I was his. Damn, how I wish I wasn’t. But I’m here wrapped %100 percent in his warmth and thinking of absolutely nothing else. I close my eyes with no intent on opening them and let myself slip away for a moment. It wasn’t hard, let me tell you, he made it easy.

Cue the cheesy music and the mood lighting because it’s one of those disgustingly cliché moments. He gives a playful tickle and I plant a gentle kiss on his forehead and with a giggle I smile and he smiles back. I search and search for an imperfection to break the streak of giggles because I know this all can’t be true, but there he his again pulling me into the bubble of giddy feelings that seems to surround him. Am I going to struggle? Nope, no I will not partly because his strength reigns superior to mine, but so does his attraction. I will always be pulled in without being to back away. And to be quite honest I wouldn’t want it any other way. Further and further into his reality I seem to fall until I’m so close, words can not describe the situation and if they could, I would not be able to find the perfect combination of vowels and consonants to formulate the jumbled mess my brain seems to be in. He asks me question after question and there I sit staring into his eyes with my mouth gaping open for words escape me.

I pull out a smile to fill the moment and that seems to be enough. Void of time and environment our moments are spent on more than just attraction but on the pure simplicity of giggles and conversation that seem to leave the heart a light and for some reason somewhat relaxed and content.

I’m done thinking, as if there was much of that before. I waste no hesitation. I roll into his touch and like a playful swoosh of the wind I brush my lips against his. I let the strings attach Slowly but surely they began to attach.

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