I used to think angels were tall with great wide wings! They had a gold aura and the sun shone through their hair. But now I know they are much smaller. They come in tiny little packages, wrapped in blankets. They have 10 tiny fingers, and 10 chubby little toes. They smile as they look into your eyes. They settle at the sound of your voice, and cry for you in your absence. They are nearly tiny portraits of yourself, but just as beautiful as the angels you imagined. Their aura is just as big and just as gold. The sun still shines through them, but through their eyes. That’s why they shine so bright. They are our children. Angels are these tiny little babies who save you when you need it most. ♡
It is not biology that makes me your mother,
it is not the occupation you once had from within me.
It is not the milk you drink from my breast,
nor is it the cord that once tied us together.
It is not the features we share,
it is not the resemblance between us.
What makes me your mother is love.
It is the everlasting glow in my heart that whispers your name.
The connection between my soul and yours,
the recognition in our eyes.
My soul knows yours and yours knows mine.
When my eyes first met yours, I knew I was your mother.
I was made for you, and you were made for me.
In these still, quiet moments, I’m left to think of you. I instantly remember your laughter and notice the emptiness of the air without it. The room shines less bright without your smile, and my lips feel cool without yours. I get so used to living in laughter day after day, but feel so alone when you are called away. I close my eyes to see yours and drown out all sound to hear your voice. If I really focus, I can feel your fingertips on my cheek, the warmth of your breath on my neck, and the heaviness of your thighs against mine. The sweetness of your kiss bellows from within my memory. Knowing I will see you soon sets my heart to racing. I hope to make you understand how much I love you, but it will take the rest of my days to show you…
And so it appears, I cannot keep myself from dreaming of your lips. They haunt me, everything about them; the fullness of your bottom lip, the softness of them as they caress my own. I dream of their taste and texture. I dream of your hands on my face while you kiss me. I dream of you holding my body against yours as the tip of your tongue grazes along my bottom lip. My eyes are closed and I moan as I imagine your lips on mine. My heart flutters as I imagine connecting to you. Instead of wishing you were here with outstretched hands, fingertips searching for you, you are in my arms and I am in yours.
I crave you. I long for you.
Normal people, however bland, live life a little easier than some of us…and they don’t even know it! I’m one of those anxious people. I do my best not to be, and I put myself in the “fun place” in social scenarios. I go through crowds of people mingling without a care. I genuinely enjoy going out and being social. But here’s what normal people don’t know about people with anxiety. We have to literally put ourselves into the ‘fun place.’ We’re not naturally there. Naturally we wake up, if we slept that night, and wonder if it will be a good day or bad day. I’ve noticed that normal people don’t do that! Weird.
Rain falls against my window, and I imagine I’m with you. We’re lying together, a silhouette of our bodies on the wall, gently gliding and touching each other. A clap of thunder strikes and my pulse quickens with yours, pressing our lips together, manoeuvring them to part. We’re wrapped in each others bodies now. The silhouette of two bodies is now one. Your lips caress my neck and the rain tap tap taps the window. The scent of your skin and the rumble of the rain put me into a trance. Suddenly I’m high, losing control of my body. I’m not calculating my moves, I’m simply making them. My fingertips gently trace the muscles on your back, as yours trace my inner thigh. My legs open for you. The taste of your kiss is on my lips, I touch them.
And with one loud clap of thunder, I’m awake. You’re not here. I touch my lips, somehow still feeling your kiss.
As I watch the cherry drag on this cigarette, smoke floats into the air. I feel the music as our love pounds in my chest, pulsing throughout my body. As you sit down next to me I feel more at ease. I haven’t been this relaxed in years. I bring the cigarette to my lips again, staring out at the trees from your balcony. You light up and make a joke about your neighbors, and take your first puff with a smile. I can’t help but steal kisses between puffs because your lips are just so delicious! I suddenly feel the warmth of your kiss in my blood, forcing a shudder from deep within me. Kissing you always sends my mind reeling and suddenly I’m 15 with butterflies in my stomach again. I’m not sure how you do it, but your kiss always intoxicates me. You put your cigarette out as you stand up, reaching out for me to take your hand. I take your hand and you throw me inside, closing the door behind you, and push me against the wall all at once. Before I know it, your body is against me, and your lips are moving against mine. I gasp for air as you pick me up and wrap my legs around your waist. Carrying me to your room, I wrap my arms around your neck and kiss you deeply. A moan escapes me as you bite my lower lip. Slamming the door and throwing me onto the bed, you turn to me and smile.
“What do you want?” You say, taking your shirt off and walking toward me slowly. I catch my breath and smile back.
“Oh I’m just going to sleep.” You ease yourself onto me and laugh.
“You can sleep tomorrow.”