Of Love and Doubt

Of Love and Doubt

Why is it, love must come hand in hand with doubt?

I see you, my heart beating gently, softly pointing you out from across the room. Playing with my aspirations he begins to speak,

"Tulips are a beauty one need only plant."

I swallow, tasting the bitterness of my own insecurities as I respond,

"My touch breeds winter."

"And her kiss is spring, her touch the rain."

You look my way, eyes squinting as you smile, teasing me; hiding.

"One can drown in the rain."

"Nor live without it,"

He's speaking louder now, with a sense of authority and directness he leads me forwards. I lower my face not wishing to scare you, not wanting you to notice my love, to fear it and its inadequacies. Soon I see your arms outstretched before me, I wonder what to do, what will time do? Even truths can wilt with age; can even the grace of Tulips stay the course of forever? Or will the petals, like everything else descend into a shallow sleep, alone, lost in the sheets of promises and vows forgotten. The organ of my passion coughs, nudging me into action he convulses, some puppeteer within is taking me over with no thoughts of consequence. I place your hands within mine. Taking your fingers in my own I risk a smile, bracing oneself for the rain. The warmth of them plays games with my fingers. A rich tingling it spreads, outwards, inwards, slowly grasping me tight as the pulsing muscle sings,

"It's raining."

"What of an umbrella?"

The rain dances across me, warm and welcoming it persuades my eyes to yours. Closed, they taunt me even further, half hidden through the smooth catenary of your fringe. So delicate, I brush it aside so softly; softly.

Softly we kiss. My vision fades to other senses; the instinctual play of him and her, of he, she, we, of warmth, smooth and gentle. The repeated movements of innocence melting into passion, the fertilising of grounds,bulbs waiting to be planted.

"Will it grow?"

"Look to her eyes, you'll know."

My lips caress your brow, luring them open. As you're awoken I step away. The muscle slows; the pulsating softens to the moment. Blue dashed with green, the new born puddles showing ripples from the rain, whispering the words...

"Please stay."