a Sunday afternoon 5:55pm
You're easy to write about, the words come naturally. For the past days I've had this moment replay a hundredfold, a thousandfold. So many times.
But I couldn't find how to start it.
Do I skip to how pretty your golden skin looked against the blue tiles of my bathroom. Or should I start with how you showed up unforeseen.
In the midst of the extreme morning and late night. Right at the middle of those two moments, your car had pulled up beside the ever growing cherry tree.
Inviting yourself into my room with a simple ring of a message.
"Come outside"
Embarrassed, and rushing into clothing that leastways displayed your favorite parts of me.
It was still uncomfortably warm and sticky this late into the day. But your embrace was always welcomed and your fragrance the most intoxicating.
I hadn't seen you in days, dearly missing you.
You wound up in between brown sheets and yellow pillows. The pink glow from every bud of light illuminating your face enough to land affection onto it.
And from my place of sleep into the room of porcelain. A constant drop of water from the sink beside us. Next door, music with deep bass and voices. Your hands found mine, they met briefly, quickly parting only to find the sides of me.
From this close you see every freckle on him, how his "black" hair is truly brown. The small pink tint beneath his eyes.
Bare thighs pressed together, all lines of us lining up.
The small movements had remolded into a gentle sway. I've never danced with another so peacefully, or had been held so carefully. I hoped you had felt the care I have for you with how I clumsily went along with it.
"You only came back because I'm so easy"
It was intended as a joke, it sounded like a joke. But I secretly wanted to know if it was true. You took it as a joke, with how you smiled just big enough to pull at your face and have your teeth peek.
"Yeah"
It burned a little. It actually kind of felt like a punch to my gut. But I understood. You're complicated. Just as I am with everything involving loving someone.
"It's okay, you're easy too"
The ugly head in my mind reared. Crawling out of the darkness in desperate need to protect itself. An automatic decision of wanting you to feel the bruise just as hard. I expected you to get angry, maybe start an argument. Instead the swaying slowly came to a halt.
You turned around, and pulled at the faucet. Water poured out loudly. You returned, hands below my shoulder.
"For you, it's easy to be easy"
That made my night. Caring for him was easy. Thinking of him was easy. Conversation is easy. It's not that he's easily available, or me. When it's right, it's just that easy.
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