sometimes when i call him it no longer sounds like ringing just the constant thumping of my own heart fluttering, flipping, outraged by the idea it's no longer in control. i know that feeling well where my heart seems to skip a bit and make my stomach churn it's contents twisting and knotting itself in protest.

like when i used to go visit the laundromat we would watch the clothes fall into each other creating static, energy for us to be amazed, perturbed, confused at the swirling, twirling colors separated from us by glass. our grubby fingers would touch the fronts leaving behind prints to prove our existence, that we were there though we didn't realize what we did.

now i don't live so bold i don't leave footprints behind i clean up after myself and i wash dishes often. i don't believe in stomping my feet or rubbing my hands, curious, on everything that has some new feel or texture i like.

now all i feel is him when we lay in bed and i reach over to gently touch his arm, his skin is always silky smooth from the presence of lotion and he always smells of coco butter. when he looks at me and those lovely dark eyes soften for a moment, only a moment, and i feel relaxed while chaos spins about me.

and somehow the world still churns when i'm curled into him and it finally feels like we're sitting still the earth still rotates in this silly way never stopping, ceasing. and sometimes when i curl up in bed without him i still smell coco butter and taste the salt on his lips the velvet soft way his skin feels and i imagine how it is when he is around and i'm happy.

and for once. i'm happy.