Shift Through The Static To Find A Simpler Sound
The Only Chapter
Words are (wishing/wanting/hoping) to be said. Could have beens; might have beens are praying for a release from vocal cord prisons. Prompts are given to say what is meant to be spoken only to be met with “never mind” roadblocks on the journey to truth.
But words are subjective. Effortlessly manipulated. Trains of thought easily able to skew off course. Like the old radio his parents cherished from their childhood, a simple interference could distort the connotation of any conversation.
The young admirer looked on across the small room at the object of his affection. He silently marveled at the beauty of the other male; his deep eyes, the way his tan skin lit up the room, how he seemed just that much perfect in the eyes of the other boy.
Just then a smooth chocolate gaze met shy blue orbs in a brief silent meeting before the blue eyes diverted to the guitar in his lap, a soft shade of red ghosting over pale cheekbones. He fiddled with the instrument in his lap to provide him some (any) distraction.
Soon knuckles rapped softy on the brim of a hat, alerting the (mental) owner of a visitor whom wishes a get-together. A body sat on the floor, careful to avoid sheet music in progress of being completed, as if damaging the paper written on will affect the quality of the actual song.
Idle chatter volleyballs the air as time ticks by; second by second, minute by minute. Soon all thoughts had been vocalized and ideas had run dry. A momentary silence passed before being interrupted by, “’Trick you seem real distant lately. Something wrong?”
“I-… no-.. well not ex-…” Patrick once again found himself unable to say the words he so desperately wanted to say, to stop the words from pilling in the back of his throat like a bad car wreck.
“You know if anything is bothering you that you can tell me. I will always be here to listen to you.” Soft eyes locked onto a blue gaze, an even softer smile emphasizing every word just said tenfold.
It wasn’t until their faces hovered mere inches from one another did Patrick decide to adopt a new method of conveying his emotions. In a daring leap, Patrick pushed his face forward and captures the lips of the boy in front of him in his own.
I like you. I care for you. I want you. I need you. Please. Hold me. Touch me. Kiss me. Be mineminemine.
Words never said flowed freely into that one kiss. Patrick clenched his eyes shut, waiting for the heavy blow of rejection. He waited for Pete to pull away and laugh it off as just another awkward blemish on the skin of life. When he neither pulled back nor laughed but rather but rather took his hand to reach to the back of Patrick’s neck to push the kiss deeper, Patrick took as a good omen.
I understand.
Both boys gently parted to gather air for their oxygen deprived minds. Forehead to forehead. Gaze meeting gaze. They just sat there, everything and nothing being spoken all at once.
“I love you Pete.”
Pete let out a small laugh, “took you long enough,” he said, pulling Patrick into another kiss before the blond had a chance to express his confusion.
Because sometimes actions can truly speak better then words.
But words are subjective. Effortlessly manipulated. Trains of thought easily able to skew off course. Like the old radio his parents cherished from their childhood, a simple interference could distort the connotation of any conversation.
The young admirer looked on across the small room at the object of his affection. He silently marveled at the beauty of the other male; his deep eyes, the way his tan skin lit up the room, how he seemed just that much perfect in the eyes of the other boy.
Just then a smooth chocolate gaze met shy blue orbs in a brief silent meeting before the blue eyes diverted to the guitar in his lap, a soft shade of red ghosting over pale cheekbones. He fiddled with the instrument in his lap to provide him some (any) distraction.
Soon knuckles rapped softy on the brim of a hat, alerting the (mental) owner of a visitor whom wishes a get-together. A body sat on the floor, careful to avoid sheet music in progress of being completed, as if damaging the paper written on will affect the quality of the actual song.
Idle chatter volleyballs the air as time ticks by; second by second, minute by minute. Soon all thoughts had been vocalized and ideas had run dry. A momentary silence passed before being interrupted by, “’Trick you seem real distant lately. Something wrong?”
“I-… no-.. well not ex-…” Patrick once again found himself unable to say the words he so desperately wanted to say, to stop the words from pilling in the back of his throat like a bad car wreck.
“You know if anything is bothering you that you can tell me. I will always be here to listen to you.” Soft eyes locked onto a blue gaze, an even softer smile emphasizing every word just said tenfold.
It wasn’t until their faces hovered mere inches from one another did Patrick decide to adopt a new method of conveying his emotions. In a daring leap, Patrick pushed his face forward and captures the lips of the boy in front of him in his own.
I like you. I care for you. I want you. I need you. Please. Hold me. Touch me. Kiss me. Be mineminemine.
Words never said flowed freely into that one kiss. Patrick clenched his eyes shut, waiting for the heavy blow of rejection. He waited for Pete to pull away and laugh it off as just another awkward blemish on the skin of life. When he neither pulled back nor laughed but rather but rather took his hand to reach to the back of Patrick’s neck to push the kiss deeper, Patrick took as a good omen.
I understand.
Both boys gently parted to gather air for their oxygen deprived minds. Forehead to forehead. Gaze meeting gaze. They just sat there, everything and nothing being spoken all at once.
“I love you Pete.”
Pete let out a small laugh, “took you long enough,” he said, pulling Patrick into another kiss before the blond had a chance to express his confusion.
Because sometimes actions can truly speak better then words.