Oct 2013
I fell for him three times
The first time I fell for him he captivated me with his words. He had mastered the twenty six letters and all their possible combinations and could play them better than any instrument. He could create laughter, happiness, joy in me, effortlessly, continuously, endlessly. When we conversed between days, without voices, it was like he already knew what I sounded like despite never hearing me speak a word. It was like he had browsed through my collection of tattered books and torn sketches and scratched cds despite never having stepped foot in my room. It was like he had watched me during moonlit hours while I watched each raindrop kiss the earth goodnight despite never having seen the moon dance across my skin. He didn't know this though. I was timid, consumed entirely by doubt and insecurity, fearful that my arms could not yet quite reach out far enough and it was early spring and the sun and breeze were gentle and couldn't push me quite yet. I had fallen though, the bruises were on my grazed knees to mark the occasion. He took my hand in his own, lingered, and pulled me up.
The second time I fell for him he captivated me with his presence. People terrified me. People could make the air cling to me and I would quickly be submerged but never quite manage to drown, but not him. No, not him. When he entered a room, it seemed bigger, there was more air. When he entered a room, the colours were brighter, there were so many more colours. When he entered a room, the music played loud, the beat got faster. This should have terrified me, but it mesmerised me. They say that people have smiles that can light up rooms, his smile could light up a thousand rooms all at once, and that's what he did. He lit up every chamber of my heart and old, dusty corners that hadn't seen light in years were suddenly graced with his wonderful presence. Watching his hands tap the surfaces around him made me realised how empty the spaces between my fingers were. He could never leave a surface without making sure he'd tapped out a rhythm on to it, like he was creating his own song in each moment, in each day, and leaving pieces of it behind for others to find and when he tapped out a rhythm on to me for the first time I knew that I wanted to hear how it ended even if it meant I needed to be in every moment and every day. I wanted him to collect the pieces.
The third time I fell for him he captivated me with his heart. My heart was brightly lit near him now, and it yearned to stay that way. The light brought heat and instead of shivering my heart could beat like it should. I needed to be closer. My heart desired to leave my chest and move into his and it was something I could no longer fight. The sun magnified this new warmth in me and pushed me further. I led him through and he followed. No one followed. He always followed. I fell then in front of him and he followed still. We fell into place like puzzle pieces, a natural event, words spilling out from me in an order that even I struggled to untangle and what should have been a jumbled mess as I hit the floor he had smoothed out without a second thought. Still a master of those twenty six letters, but instead of words he spilled tears as we lay in tall grass that was wet with the rain we had already missed. I knew then that I was in love with him, without doubt.
The first time I fell for him he captivated me with his words. He had mastered the twenty six letters and all their possible combinations and could play them better than any instrument. He could create laughter, happiness, joy in me, effortlessly, continuously, endlessly. When we conversed between days, without voices, it was like he already knew what I sounded like despite never hearing me speak a word. It was like he had browsed through my collection of tattered books and torn sketches and scratched cds despite never having stepped foot in my room. It was like he had watched me during moonlit hours while I watched each raindrop kiss the earth goodnight despite never having seen the moon dance across my skin. He didn't know this though. I was timid, consumed entirely by doubt and insecurity, fearful that my arms could not yet quite reach out far enough and it was early spring and the sun and breeze were gentle and couldn't push me quite yet. I had fallen though, the bruises were on my grazed knees to mark the occasion. He took my hand in his own, lingered, and pulled me up.
The second time I fell for him he captivated me with his presence. People terrified me. People could make the air cling to me and I would quickly be submerged but never quite manage to drown, but not him. No, not him. When he entered a room, it seemed bigger, there was more air. When he entered a room, the colours were brighter, there were so many more colours. When he entered a room, the music played loud, the beat got faster. This should have terrified me, but it mesmerised me. They say that people have smiles that can light up rooms, his smile could light up a thousand rooms all at once, and that's what he did. He lit up every chamber of my heart and old, dusty corners that hadn't seen light in years were suddenly graced with his wonderful presence. Watching his hands tap the surfaces around him made me realised how empty the spaces between my fingers were. He could never leave a surface without making sure he'd tapped out a rhythm on to it, like he was creating his own song in each moment, in each day, and leaving pieces of it behind for others to find and when he tapped out a rhythm on to me for the first time I knew that I wanted to hear how it ended even if it meant I needed to be in every moment and every day. I wanted him to collect the pieces.
The third time I fell for him he captivated me with his heart. My heart was brightly lit near him now, and it yearned to stay that way. The light brought heat and instead of shivering my heart could beat like it should. I needed to be closer. My heart desired to leave my chest and move into his and it was something I could no longer fight. The sun magnified this new warmth in me and pushed me further. I led him through and he followed. No one followed. He always followed. I fell then in front of him and he followed still. We fell into place like puzzle pieces, a natural event, words spilling out from me in an order that even I struggled to untangle and what should have been a jumbled mess as I hit the floor he had smoothed out without a second thought. Still a master of those twenty six letters, but instead of words he spilled tears as we lay in tall grass that was wet with the rain we had already missed. I knew then that I was in love with him, without doubt.
