I remember those nights before you. I remember waking, with morning light in my eyes and a pillow tucked to my chest. I remember something, everything, clawing at me to get up, to end this fantasy of you. Of you and me, you and me together. Oh how I can see us together, now, with our hair messy, our feet intertwined as though we'd never be together again. I can see us so deeply in our own world, the alarm ringing in futility, the sun shining through the blinds beckoning us to move. We didn't, couldn't, wouldn't care. Oh, how I remember so deeply wishing for you, so deeply longing, longing enough to believe it true. Believing truly enough to bring forth you, that my wish gave you, us, life. I can see us within our eyes, me in you, you in mine. I can see the sudden turn of a smile, slowly creeping across your face.
I can see us meeting for the first time.
I can see you getting into my car, feel my heartbeat speed just a little faster after seeing you. Oh how I can see us smiling, big smiles with teeth showing and gleaming. I can see your dark hair touching the roof of my small car, small for you. Your eyes show a sort of wretchedness, an unease that contrasts this moment, yet I could bet mine show the same. I can feel the air crispen with our hearts screaming just a little louder. I can feel the slight unease and choose to ignore it. I can feel my hand reaching for the knob to turn up the music. Your eyes widen as you recognize the song and I start singing along. Your widened eyes narrow as a laugh forms, a laugh from the sight of me making a fool of myself, I don't care, you neither. I sing at the top of my lungs, we love this song. I'm doing my best to get you away from what I think brings you down. I want you here, with me, in this moment, I want you alive here, with me, I want you to have fun, with me. I want to know how you have fun, with me, I want you now more than I ever thought I could have ever wanted you, here, with me. I want you to want me, though I have no pure inclination that you are even here with me now, despite knowing absolutely you are here with me, it isn't enough. I don't quite know if it's me, if it's the way in which I talk more than you do or if it's because you're in my car and not the other way around. I feel as though it's me, coming off too heavy, too happy. But you see this, you see my eyes dart to yours, to interpret how you feel and you know. With one breath you've fixed my unease. With one breath you are on my lips, in my arms, and I know, I just know.
I can see you in my room for the first time, I can see you looking at my walls with wonder. I can see you now, pointing to the poster of the movie I told you was my favorite. You can see the horrible paintings on my walls shyly creeping behind a bookshelf. You move the books to find a deep blue sea that I could never get quite right. You say you love it, that you knew I could do things but nothing like what you've imagined. You say you love my room as it is an extension of me as you sit on the bed, it looks small compared to you. I can feel my face turn the shade of crimson as are my sheets that you lay upon. I want this image to stay: you on my bed like a little kid, curling up for evening nap time. I want the image to stay of you smiling, looking at me with such joy that I cannot help but feel I've done well. I feel the urge to jump on the bed with you, but I hold out. I see you stand and walk over to the books I have, never enough, always too many. You examine them and credit my taste as you walk to the other side. I see you pull a record and start playing it. The record has the song I sang in the car on the way here. I've always loved that song, I can hear it now, a prophecy of forever, golden, love. I don't want this to ever end nor do I ever want to have to begin again.
I can see myself finding you, see myself writing about you. I can see the very moment that you exist to me. I can see you becoming the person I have just described.
I wait for you.
