HEART MATTERS

~ ♡ ~

Dream-like figure barely touching the ground,

Moving seamlessly with the air,

Your arms' movements shape the space around you

Leaving streams of light behind,

Slowly fading as you walk towards my lips.

Anticipation inundates my arteries

With streams of passion.

I can hear my own heart beating in my brain

As if it was part of my skull.

Silence.

“Am I still breathing?”

I grasp for air,

Briefly separating my lips

Only to feel the softness of your wet mouth

Rapidly colliding with mine.

My arms lock around your back

And I feel the warmth of your skin on mine.

I can't hear my heart beating anymore...

My brain is filled with waves of pleasure

That shoot down into my feet

And right back up into my brain

Neverending electricity,

That makes my tongue explore

Every inch of your red lips.

My fingertips run slowly

Down on the small of your back,

And up between your shoulder blades

Softly pressing against your soft skin

Like the keys of a stunning piano symphony.

Your kiss has made me blind and deaf

As I lost myself in you

Desperately trying to find my way back.

I am as light as a feather

Drifting through centuries of you.

A loud sigh brings me back

And I open my eyes to meet yours.

You are gone.

“It's just a dream” I sadly realize,

And thoughts of you

Still linger on my lips.

And so I spend one quiet Saturday afternoon drifting away on sweet melodies that mend my soul as of late. I have not thought of heart matters for a while but she seems to have struck a cord and now it resonates in my brain like a constant reminder of my humanity. As I became the woman I am today, I left those sensations behind thus misery followed every time I allowed them to take root. Passion seems to remain the only constant throughout the years. However dormant or alive, I have never missed it one way or another. I've dedicated my last 10 years to more precise studies where mind can't be tainted by heart matters. It seems as it has worked out just fine for me and I shielded my soul with logic. Such a contradiction, as I never believed in logic at all. The world was one irrational, unpredictable and mysterious avenue I walked fiercely, eager to prove its beauty through any mean of creativity.

 When I stripped down my emotions and left all that behind, a severe woe followed and I can't remember at what point in time I became numb or if it was in fact instant. I became my father, cold and rational but yet not emotionless, unapproachable but yet kind, distant but yet reliable. Heartache, despair, melancholy and sorrow were distant memories, unfamiliar notions of the past. I often thought of creating and although I didn't allow myself the thought, I missed it. More often then I didn't.