Adding Colors

He's pulling me apart at the seams while adding pieces where I didn't know anything was missing.

He's a different color than what I thought love would be. The only fairy tale sense about this is accepting it's real and not a tale. This goodness is real, and it's ours... but he's not anywhere near cliche. He's like my dad in that sense. My dad says things how they are. He has no need to make things sound better, and I guess that's where my brother got that, as well. There's just a raw honesty that I value in him. He communicates with me, and it's something I hold dear.

His grip on my hips is different. The ending has been the same every damn time, before him. Now, I'm hoping for something different. I'm living something different.

I've always appreciated the beauty of a secret. Privacy is something I cling to even in this day and age. I can expose my bones online, sure, but you won't know my flesh how he can. I don't have to tell anyone anything. I have control. I show what I want, nothing more than that... but there's no reason to hide with him. I'm not afraid of showing him the heavier colors.

He's shown me enough colors to make a beautiful water color painting. It's in the way he spun me in that empty parking lot. It's in the way he looks to his left while he's deep in thought. It's in the way his eyes crinkle with every cm his lips stretch into a smile. The color is in his lips when he whispers his feelings into my ear so unexpectedly. It's the trace he leaves on my body after we've given each other something you can't grasp unless you love one another... It's the color that rises to his fingertips when he holds me so gently. It's the hurt in his eyes when he shakes his head and can't understand my actions. It's the excitement, hope, love... everything I see in him. The colors are everywhere.


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