The rain started out as merely a drizzle. Like when you eyes water up after a good yawn.
Melancholy the way time can warp relationships. The way the current of passing seconds ticks on and washes away memories and familiarity. I used to see the exact hue of golden green flecks that are in your eyes in glistening leaves and morning grass.
The drizzle welled itself up into a rain. A heavy, steady rain.
I want a man in my life who I can love as passionately and effortlessly as I possibly can. He is tall, with golden curls, eyes as green as a gecko, freckled skin; he is kind, he is passionate. About art, music, writing, reading, loving. He loves me so much. So much that it doesn’t matter if we even talk as long as we can be near each other. We would lay in bed. I would be writing on my computer listening to music out loud, and he would never have to ask what song was playing or which artist was singing because he would already know. Instead of having my legs bent up towards myself, I would extend them out freely over his. He might caress my calf or absentmindedly run his fingers up my thigh. I would glance up at him from time to time to try and catch him absorbed in the book he was reading or just to show myself this magical creature truly exists in my presence...and he is all mine.
Bouquet of marigolds in hand, I walked through the mist in a silence only disturbed by the thud of my black boots hitting the pavement, left foot then right.
We would eat breakfast and talk about plans for the day. Hiking excursions, films, bookstores that smelled so strongly of aged paper it was almost toxic...some days these plans would materialize, but on some of our best days we would climb back into bed and curl up within the comfort of each other’s familiar frames and watch our favorite movies and drink hot chocolate or mint tea with honey and talk about our dreams.
I love the smell of wet asphalt. I love the feeling of the skys tears beading on the bridge of my nose, making my hair dewy like the morning grass.
We’ll forget what time it is when we’re together. We’ll forget what time is. Time will be very jarring when we are apart.
I love that the moon is omnipresent in the sky even when the fog is so bright and white we can’t appreciate it by sight. We can still appreciate it though.
We’ll go out to cafes, to concerts, to parks. He’ll sit patiently beside me when I paint or draw, and he will always be willing (even if he likes to pretend he isn’t) to be my model when I need to exercise my creativity through photography. He will be my best friend, my hero, my confidante. He will be my sun and my moon.
For turning the motions of the oceans and filling the clouds with two parts hydrogen and oxygen. For life.
He will be.