I remember when I first told her that I was self-conscious about my body, of all the blemishes and scars I had. It was the one thing that always made me second guess myself.
She told me that it didn’t matter to her; she thought they were unique. Apart of who I was. She promised to kiss each and every one of them, down to the one above my eyelid. And she did. She’s the only person that’s ever done that.
She’s the only person that’s made me feel beautiful.
If I am paper,
let your fingers be the ink
that traces my skin.
Sometimes I have to wonder what on earth I did to have someone so lovely be mine.
When people think of marriage they see gauzy wedding rings and a bridal gown that’d put Kate Middleton’s to shame. They envision a 6 tier cake and a honeymoon spent diving in the Tahitian waters. When you say marriage some of the first images that come to most minds are his and her sinks and deciding which coffee maker to keep and which blender to return for some extra pocket change.
When I think of marriage I see your face. I see eternity in your eyes and I can taste the forever on your lips. I can see me confessing my undying love to you every morning when you roll over with hot breath and sleep-crusted eyes. And a honeymoon that starts every night when you drop your keys on the coffee table and kick your feet up from a long day at work.
When I hear the word marriage I hear the cuss words and fuck you’s loud enough and violent enough to make your grandmother blush and read a verse of Psalms in your behalf to beg the Lord to watch over you. Followed by sweet apologies whispered in my ear while the orgasm washes through our bodies as if to cleanse the hurt we caused one another and give us a fresh start.
When I imagine what marriage would be like I see little me’s and little you’s running around the house and the pitter patter of their little feet on the chestnut floor as they play games like hide and go seek and tag. I can see her trip and hurt her knee, and you kissing her boo boos while wiping away her tears to let her know that everything’s going to be okay. I can see them coming to you in their adolescent years when they want to go to a party I told them they couldn’t go to but they know that if they ask you you’ll say yes because you’re a push over. I can see us at their graduations and us at their weddings and us babysitting our grandchildren for the weekend filling their heads with stories of how things were back in the day.
When I think about marriage I see me and you. Grey haired and wrinkled, taking walks around the park and still laughing as if we haven’t aged a bit. I can see our love, a bit rusted from the years but still durable, maybe even stronger than it was when we first met.
When I think about marriage, I see no one else but you. And me. Not bound together by the sermon of a preacher or the law of the land, not even bound together by the term marriage itself. But bound together by our love.
It’s the little things that warm my heart my most. The little things she does..
I miss her already.
This morning I went to a Muslim service and it was really interesting. I honestly can’t even remember the last time I attended any kind of religious service so it felt new to me. I enjoyed it. One of the trainees who attended actually converted and became a Muslim during the service.
I don’t think I could convert to any religion whatsoever at this point unless I’m 100% for it. Hell, for me to religious at all I’d have to be completely willing. For now, I’ll just take a back seat and continue to be my lil agnostic self.
So now it’s another two months until I get to physically be with her again.
:|
Stopped by Pandora and impulsively bought a bracelet for her. I’m usually not one for impulsive buys, but whatever.
Two hours until my flight departs. Connection flight in Baltimore, then to San Antonio. I’m tired as hell and I look like shit in the face.
