Timeless

Endless summer blue skies, warm as his arms welcome me in the afternoon.

The sun stings my eyes as it greets me. The air is light and sweet.
 Remanence of slumber lingers in the corner of my eyes. It feels like spring. 

I open the windows and let the air fill the room. I love the power of the sea. It's fragile beauty and

hair-trigger temperament. I wish he were here with me; Sprawled out next to me, surrounded 

by the duvet and pillows. I'd trace his ribs over his smooth skin, watching his chest rise and fall. I'd allow myself to be hypnotised, then lay my head on his shoulder. My arm wrapped around his waist. His comforting hand would sneak up my t-shirt and stroke my back, his fingers occasionally lingering on my hip. I want to feel his warmth against mine, time drifting over us, wholeheartedly unburdened. I love how the air kisses our skin and bathes us with happiness of memories past. We whisper experiences to one another, our eyes closed. His voice is barely a whisper but you can feel his happiness radiate through his voice as he speaks. He snuggles his head into my chest and pulling my leg up to rest slightly over his. When I'm with him there is no reason to hide. He kisses my red cheeks, inflamed with self-consciousness and seduces me into cosmic ease. Fire ignites in my blood. He tastes the ghosts hidden within my bones. I begin to tell him. I share with him the train rides, swimming in the sea, adventures in the back garden. 

Trials and tribulations. Weighted in calories, sugars and fats. Measured in cm, inches, feet and metres. I don't know if I'm searching for a promise or a cure; a disease or empty sentiments. No matter what I try, I'm always left feeling as hollow as before. Time, the most beautiful and cruel, of experiences, deceives me. Crawls or races by, always laughing as he goes. She tells me there is nothing that can break this curse. Chemical battles rage on unseen beneath my skin. But he doesn't believe in it. He's romanticised the cure and elevated it to such a level that I cannot begin to comprehend. What if he's onto something? What if his views are nothing short of the truth? Will optimism began to unwind the corrosions of time? What do I have to lose in surrendering myself to him? To allow his ideals to take root in me, to see if they bloom? I wasn't always this way. I think he knows this. Centuries of genetic misdeeds, sewn into my DNA. 

And he said to me, baby come drown with me in this English summer rain. And I told him that we would chase the waning moon until our consciousness fades away.

My soul is inflamed with ideals of him. If given the chance, I'd love him with all I have to give. I'd speak the words I've been dying to. In your breath, I'm born again. It is through your eternal sunshine that I have been able to grow in ways I've only ever dreamed.