Some Kind of Reality

1.
And when I walked, one step, one step, one step, on the street and up the stairs to come see you, my chest danced and my ribs waltzed to the one, two, three, four of my feet. And when you opened the door, my feet stopped beating but my muscles still moved in rhythm. And I remember you said something, but I don’t remember what. I felt the bones in my fingers and the air in my blood, and this I remember.

2.
We sat next to one another, our shoulders round, feet dangling over the edge of a rough-hewn cliff. Fishing rods hung loose in our hands, and our eyes looked out in a parallel gaze, following the spider woven lines into the water. The wind blew my hair into my eyes, and everything was blue, so blue. And in a moment, then, I was cast from my body and held tight in the air to look down on us. The sand rolled over and white froth died as our twin lures bobbed up and down like orange surprises. A sigh escaped and your head relaxed onto my shoulder, and I was thrown back into myself. Just to catch the warmth of your breath on my collar.

3.
Love is the easiest to write about, they tell me.
How easy is it to word the nights I lie in blankets and imagine that we went to the trees, and planted leaves that grew into worlds just beyond our reach? We sat by the ocean and reached in our hands and pulled out silent volcanoes from the waters that we coaxed into warming out hands. We stood beside mountains and felt the heavy rocks slowly lose their battle to time, and cried for their death. And then, when we were tired all we had to do was lie in your bed and feel our blood rocketing through vessels in a race to see who could feel life in their toes first. It was this dream that kept me awake, and I wonder now how much easier it is to write, not about love, but about times that you never existed for.

4.
You can see it.
It's...
My soul.
That’s what it is.
Please don’t look.
A gentle pink sinew.
It’s raw. Don’t look.
Who has made it so sore?
No one, no one. I have exposed the nerves myself.
So subtle and so sensitive.
I’m too scared, I’m too scared.
Of what?
Trusting you not to eat me whole.