17.09.12

To my lover, with dark eyes and battle wounds.

Who lies beside me through bad dreams that shake my world and prick my eyes with salty tears. Who believes in me to make good decisions on shirts and free range meat - who will one day hold my hand through blinding pain and tell me that this too shall pass. 

How each morning you wake me in the same, sleepy daydream. Kissing my naked eyes softly and patting your chest to lay an embrace. I rise from a far away dream land, stuck between two world and smile without opening my eyes. Before the day has even began, I am at ease with the world in it's morning slumber. Everything seems perfectly beautiful and I lay, in the grips of sleep, reminded that this world is ours to explore. And we are so young - and have so much of it left to see. 

My lover, there is something that stirs within us - a quiet hymn of calmness that builds a strong wall high around us. Where we are able to conquer the world as if we are gods in our tiny galaxy. I am forever reminded of my youth and worth, even when you are tired and your bones ache with the weight of the day; we are young. Two halves of one whole - our emotions as though one body, flow with ease throughout each of us. We shrare the same ambitions, where I sometimes play devil's advocate and lose patience with the world. 

An ocean of chemicals and hormones swirl through me at times. New to me, pushing me in at the deep end of something bigger. My boy with palms of steel - designed by the gods themselves to assemble Ikea flatpacks. These hands that have bathed me, healed me and held me through pain and euphoria. 

My boy, my own boy, big dreams as big as mine and achievements to rival someone double your age. Who's name evokes emotion in my friends, as I blush and retell the story of my twentieth birthday once more. Who can steer the boat and the fast car, but who's gentility can silence a crying child.

I am careful not to lose precious moments as we grow together. Like sunkissed afternoos reading with your hand cupping my freckled face. We are both victims of impatience, eagre to grow up and spread our wings. To discover the world in all its raw beauty and live a dream bigger than both these towns put together. We walk the same road from different paths - blessed in different ways: through talent and good feet to stand up on. 

Through plans on paper and scribbles in calendars, we create our world. We will speak of the children we are yet to have and places we are yet to see. Tiny hands and tiny feet inside a home we have built around us. Plans of Australia and the big blue, plans so tangible we can almost touch them. You with your wise words worldly blueprints and me, drenched in child-like innocence, with a wanderlust that makes every inch of my body ache. "I promise", you whisper. And promise you will, as you've never been one to go back on your word. 

As i caress your scarred knuckle, running my fingers over the dips in your chest, I am reminded that, in this short time, part of me has been filled with something, where before there was nothing. I have been awakened with feelings in parts of me I didn't know could exist. 

What I'd give to go back in time, back to the bar on the Greek Island and tell myself that these hands would caress my skin through laughter and tears. These shoulders would become a pillow I am yet to discover. That I would grow to recognize each scar and line as my very own. That these lips would know every inch of my skin better than I do myself. But most of all I would remind myself that this would be beautiful - to let go of all fear and trepidation and sink my feet into the cool sand that night. I wish I knew that months - maybe years from now - I would yearn to recall those moments on the fork lit beach. A small crevice inside will kept these secrets locked up, treasured. Perhaps saved for a quiet moment in later life, when I am heavy with old age and life experience, I will recollect those precious hours and, in that moment, be complete.