Don't Let Go

Warm breath on my lips, standing on the side of the road, in a town so small it doesn’t even have a gas station. The wind blowing sandpaper rain across our bare faces. Eyes locked. Melting deeper and deeper into your gaze. Your hand on my lower back, digging your fingers into my sweater ever-so-slightly.

Hold me tight. Tighter. Longer. Don’t let go.

I let my hand crawl up your arm, and ran my fingers along your jawline, neck, then collarbone, tracing the top of your black t-shirt. Tugging you a little closer.

Kiss me please….. just kiss me.

Days before..I felt it again, the sinking, failing, brewing in the depths of my lungs. Weighing me down, luring me to the bottom. To drown.

You were there.. You let me curl up in a cramped room of your heart, shut out the world, and dried up the ocean in my chest. The air seeped into my limp body, inflating the chambers to their previous state.

I just needed a little helping getting back up.

That was us, unusually tangled, beneath the sheets. Holding out as long as we can before our lips crash together like the waves of the storm roaring through our bodies. You transmit your energy to me, kind of like the butterflies crawl up your throat, across your tongue, onto mine, then down to make a home beneath my ribs.

Our sleepy bodies, side-by-side. You hold my scars„ and I’ll hold yours. Sweetheart, we won’t fall apart tonight. Breathe. Our bodies fall limp together, you twitch as you drift into a dream, and I cuddle closer to the steady rise-and-fall of your chest.