He said he liked her hair long.

She just had a pixie cut.

So, she put down the kitchen scissors.
Letting spring and summer warm her bones.

And then he dared to say
"I miss your high cheekbones and the nape of your neck."

Daydreaming of rain & dry spells.

I saw my days in your eyes,

the flecks of gravel, a little grey cloud
&
a deep warmth between the hazel specks.

"For sale, baby shoes never worn."
For sale, eyes that never quite met the irises of hers again.
Sold, my heart & soul.

You know the beat of songs slows and matches your very heart-beat.
Its notes speaks all your unspoken wishes and words.

Sweet-heart, that's what your voice does to me.

Each word is like this little letter of emotion,
a little piece of you that melds into my mind.
They inexplicable etch themselves without my permission of 'yes!' across the edges of
my
heart.

Slowly and surely,
you became a lot of my favourite things.

Uh-oh?

Today, it will slowly get better.
But, what do I do on those seemingly infinite string of time? From sunlight to dark to starry skies to complete darkness?

The forever between today and better.

How do I wait whilst my heart gets hollowed out by time itself?

There, I finally said it.

My words blindly wisp at the distilled silence.

His lips; a silent, unmoving line.

A tiny voice that does not quite sound like mine peeks out of an
e  m p t  y
s p a c e.
I knew it.

"What are we going to do with all that infinite time?"
He slowly says, as his fingertips flicks gently and draws an  ∞ on the inner corner of my wrist.

A little inward gasp widens my eyes,
a slight stirring of all my impervious places;
a wisp of an untitled something.

It's a wisp that my raw fingertips cannot touch just yet.
It is still terribly ribboned
by
the shards of time.

"Fine, I am going to make feel in such a way, you've never felt so acutely human."

My lips flicker with something very odd.
A ghost of smile slowly begins its
slow, slow dance.

Something lovely
tip-toes
into
the
creases of
my
heart.

Be careful*
when you hold my hand.
Please?
As much as my winter-bitten lips refuse to say

"I am fragile."

Don't worry, spring will kiss them.

Between my wrist and fingertips, bear a gossamer web of time's sewing, see that criss-cross there, yes, it's still mending.

Little threads of fine, fine alchemy.

Above all, be very careful & wide-eyed
with my heart.

The space between my ribs and my white heart painted red
bears
old, old scars
that never quite
closed
to
s l e e p.

Creased memories still peek-a-boo here & there
before
threads and thin lines of time seam them away.

It is scary, I know.

But, I promise,
I'll do the same for you, sweet-heart.

Could you fill my sunday mornings
with little kisses on the nose
between yawns
&
let sleep dance across our eyelids
just for a little

while
more
?

So, a crooked smile led to one shy hello.

The
Hello met Hi.

Scuffed shoes nudges patented heels;
whilst fingertips whisper their balmy warmness into one another.

Witty, sweet nothings filled the little empty spaces from his lips to hers.
Which may have led to coffee with a raised eyebrow and crimson cheeks.

Two plates of risotto
&
4 forks
eventually
replaced
by
1 plate of strawberry cheesecake
&
2 dessert forks.

Then,

I fell met *in love.

If you can feel pain;
the soft slicks and flicks upon places
you thought
were
impervious,

just close your eyes,
and let bittersweet memories ribboned and edged with yellowing creases infuse into the little emptiness within you.

Just cautiously remember,
no,
actually
be
silly-crazy-reckless
with this,

remember that you can feel happiness too.
Those untitled somethings,
just please,
please,
         let them dance & flit across your heart.
Let their little etchings of 'Happy' remain there infinitely.
∞