Finding Melody

53: A Dream

I had never experienced magic in my life, nothing magical, nothing freeing but this came close to anything else I would ever feel. He came close to it all, my lips muffled his, kissing him like the world was coming to an end. Like I would die happy if my heart came to one final beat.
It felt like a fever dream, he felt like a fever dream. Reality was further away from me than I had ever imagined, but here he was my very very real reality right in front of me.

His heart beat heavily under mine, our hair messy, our lips puckered as we laid under the stars lying in the back of his car and staring up at them. It felt like a dream, he felt like a dream and I was just waiting to wake up, hoping I wouldn't fall in love with this moment if I was just going to wake up at the end. But I pinched myself many many times and each time Dallas looked at me like I was crazy. I pinched him too as he returned my pinch with a kiss, reminding me of how real this is, how real we are. How real he is.

We lost ourselves in the moment understanding and falling with the world as we left the lake, me pushing him to leave as he asked me where. But I didn't want to ruin this, just yet by going home and us entering through the front door.

We waited, waiting out the confusion that would come with this, the anger, the pain, the wonder. And so we drove to a park, and now we're sitting under the stars whispering soft things in each other's ears, celebrating love. Just us two, celebrating the majestic joy it brought us, to have each other.

His voice hummed against my skin as my mind raced through the last two hours we had experienced, the last couple of moments. The realization that I had every answer I needed right in front of me and I just hadn't looked. I could've saved myself massive amounts of pain, I could've saved all that time I spent crying, wondering, hoping. I had the answers all along and I hadn't even known them.

I spent so much time on my unneeded heartbreak, the ponderance of my very existence, I was ready to flee the town with Davina for the rest of my life and never see his face again. But I was glad I came back, I was glad I hadn't ran away from another one of the most scariest moments in my life. The love I had thought was unrequited had never felt better. He had never felt better.

I turned on his chest as he smiled, weaving love through my heart, my fingers that were more nervous for us than anything. His fingers felt like fire, weaving through my hair I had racked with nerves more than a million times as I read his notes, his book. Now it felt calming, everything about him felt calm. The way he slowly moved under me, his sounds of excitement of glory, of just feeling. The sound he made when his hand touched my skin, wavering against my collarbone, his groan of wonder and excitement.

A sense of relief fled through my mind as he smiled, his golden smile filled with twinkling lights, twinkling that made my heart move mountains across the world. My heart dwindled in the sky, growing every second as he hummed and I felt it through my back.

"I had the answers all along". Now thinking about it, I was an idiot. He gave me the answers to find for himself, he wanted me to read his book, his book of love and I put it aside. The moment I got it, I should've read it, I should've skipped to the envelope, read the first couple of pages. That would've saved me heartbreak, heartbreak that had broken me to small harmful pieces of chipped glass. All those times I had laid leisurely on my bed, looking up at the ceiling, reading book after book and never getting to the one I desperately needed to read. The amount of times I had called myself an idiot, ever since I had known, it was an astonishing number. It was my shelf system's fault.

"You wrote a book for me?" I asked him, clarifying the whole ordeal and he nodded his head, embarrassed by it. I had never been the most confident person, confidence wasn't my strong suit, it was quite the opposite of who I was as a whole. I understood not having the words or the bravery to say it in person, but a poem, a whole book of poetry. I had never had anyone write a poem about me, let alone a book full of poetry.