I used to think that passion was two stone pendulums swinging towards each other, meeting violently, and then swinging away. Again and again until one or both cracked, shattered, fell in pieces to the ground. The weights unable to hold themselves suspended on opposite ends, needing always, while still whole, to swing back into the other.
I used to think that real kisses always left the taste of salt lingering on your lips.
The struggle made it real, the cuts of meat I would shave off myself and package in brown paper, mark in felt tip pen: Heart. Tongue. Liver. Giving meant there was always someone taking the handouts. Giving meant there was always someone at your door with their palms cupped, waiting.
I used to think it was impossible to wake up, still curled into the arms you fell asleep in. No renegotiation performed in your sleep. No claustrophobia. No need to quell the desire to steal up and out in the middle of the night. No need to keep your purse in sight and your boots laced up, ready to run.
Every day is a new learning curve.
That the moans can come as quickly and easily as the laughter. That I can give without shedding pieces of myself. That we need not live as contortionists.
That you could want only what the other person is willing to give. No ultimatums.
Just that upside down kiss on a couch and tootsie roll surprises.
Weezer ft. Sara Bareilles – If You’re Wondering If I Want You To (I Want You To)