Pursuit of Happiness

being with you was like being in a movie. i guess that's the best way to put it. that's what my friends all said when i told them about you. but how could they know, really? how can anyone even imagine the way it felt--the sparks shooting up my spine as your calloused fingertips traced my ribcage, your arms cradling my head as the galaxy exploded in a supernova of you and me and music and sweat and lips and hands and hearts-- i'm usually good with words. i can usually write poetry or prose about how this feels, but then again, it's never felt like this. not ever. your tongue and teeth and words--god, you made love to me with your words. what do i see in you? i see an angel with freckles and crazy, crazy hair. i'm kind of afraid of you. i'm scared of your beautiful friends, and your beautiful hands, and the way you make me feel. i'm scared that you'll take away the drug i found in your mouth. i know what we had wasn't love. i don't want it to be love. i'm sick of love. what we had was more like magic. i almost think it's good we couldn't keep it. keeping you at arm's length will keep me safe and whole. in one year, your lips will be my vacation.