a cut above all the rest

this is love.

his hands outline my back and i wrap my legs around his waist.
his lips meet mine and i forget all of my insecurities.
better yet, i forgot my list of reasons as to why i want to kill myself.
it doesn't matter anymore. i could live forever and not mind if only every moment was spent like this.
maybe this is love.

i run my fingers through his dark brown hair.
so there really are butterflies fluttering in my stomach. it gives you that light tickling feeling that makes you feel weightless. it's the best feeling i think i have every felt.
more satisfying than blood being released from my wrists at 4am each morning.

he walks over to the wall resting my back against it. one hand supporting my thigh the other behind my neck.
our lips becoming a little less synchronised and the air becoming a little more thin.

the grip behind my neck gets tighter and so do my lungs.
my back pressed harder against the wall threatening to crush under pressure.
my lips are left bare before i open my eyes to find a pair of dark hazel determined eyes staring back into mine.

my gasps for air become less and less helpful and my heart beating faster, straining against my chest.

so this is what dying really feels like.

i feel my face turn hot and cold at the same time.
the butterflies are killed off and i feel each and every one of them plummet to the bottom of my stomach in large masses.

i was right.
this is love.

but the black - blue feeling of love was what i mistakenly saw as the warm kind of orange - red that made my heart feel a little less empty, my soul a little less dark, my eyes see a little more colour and my brain believe that the world is not such a bad place after all.

i understand now.