Sessions From The Balcony: Romance

If you want to find something, then you have to look for it.
Look as hard as you can because nothing comes to those who wait . . .

Currently looking at Marie as she stares at the window to see the nighttime sky; her eyes are glittery and beautiful, yet sad with deep thoughts, which somehow draws me to her—making her more beautiful because Marie is real and not fantasy.

“Everything I everwanted is here,” she says while leaning in to emphasize her point.
“All I’ve ever wanted is this,” she says in a soothing, bedroom voice.

I am taken in by her—mesmerized and I lose track of myself somehow. Marie is soft skinned. Her voice is gentle and warm like a mother’s blanket that wraps around us when we are sick and in need of comfort. Leaning back against the headboard; I listen as Marie explains in great detail exactly what her dreams are.

“This is all I’ve ever wanted,” she says, remarking about the way are and the way  we lay together at night when the moonlight beams through the shades of our upstairs bedroom. It is summer and the sound of crickets chirp and echo in the winds. The breeze is cool enough that we can leave the windows open and feel the relief of the outside breath.

I think to myself, “I love her.”
I love everything about her. I love the way her hair smells. I love the way she smiles when she sleeps. I watch this with hopes that it is me she is dreaming about. I watch her sleeping peacefully, praying that I am the reason behind her smile—hoping that I can keep it this way and she would always smile when thinking of me.

Marie is naked beneath the sheets. She is sitting up in bed with her long hair tied up and kept away from her face.
I like her this way.
It lends me the moment to see her naturally, exactly as she is, and simple without any complications or distractions. I am in bed beside her and naked as well. I am naked both at heart as well as body. I have never seen anyone like her—Marie, a girl I could swear I met in a dream so long ago and at last, I found her after the countless tragedies of wrong turns and heartaches.

I watch Marie as she speaks. She is trying to define our paths in life and how all of our yesterdays were pertinent to the life we have now. Her silhouette in the moonlight is like Mary, Mother of God, beautiful, and wholesome. Her eyes are full as she gazes outward, teary, allowing me to see her as delicate and honest without pretense.


“I don’t care where we live,” she tells me.
“I don’t care if we live here, across the bridge, or across the country.”
I could live anywhere with you,” she tells me.

I am watching Marie and studying the features of her body. I watch the way her body curves to memorize every detail. If I were to close my eyes, it would only be to see her—exactly as she was in this moment. Then I would hold this image in my thoughts until death do us part.

If love is life, then my life has not started until now. Before this, I was lost—searching for something I only knew by name. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time—attempting to love the wrong people—acting as if and playing the part—settling and accepting an unacceptable trade because I never thought love was real. But it is

Marie lies back beside me on the bed. I have forgotten about everything that happened to me before. I had forgotten about the pile of bills, which lay downstairs on the kitchen counter; some of which were stamped with the words, “Final Notice,” in red ink to suggest the urgency the payment.

I am failing in a way. My heart is full, yet our wallets are empty. The night is beautiful and Marie is looking at the bedroom window to see the moonlit sky. I am above anything frightened and crazy. I am frightened to let her down but crazy as if I had been fueled by a drug to leave me in a total state of arousal.

“There is something to this,” I think to myself.
There is something about a man’s role in his household. There is pride in this. There is pride in being a provider—strong and secure—enough to fend off the world if I felt the threat of anything to come our way.
Man is supposed to be this—dominant and in charge. Truthfully, I am submissive to her. I am given to her voice and the feel of her legs as I curl behind her, holding Marie closely, squeezing her with hopes that the touch of her body against mine and mine against hers would be enough to solve all the riddles of the world.

“I had to go through a lot to find you,” she said while lying on her side.
Taking my hand that drape across her, Marie pulls it to her face to place her cheek in my palm.
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you too,” I answer.

Inside my heart, I felt the value of her touch and the gravity of this moment.
“She is for me,” I think to myself.
“And I am for her.”
“This is only a moment in time,” I promise my thoughts.
“Someday, I will give her everything and this will all be behind us. This will all be a memory or another chapter in the long novel we can call our life together.”

Marie can feel me behind her. She can feel me rising and standing stiff. She turns to me with the moonbeams from the bedroom window dancing upon her face. Her eyes are a shade darker this way—almost magical, as the soft blue light embraces her skin. She looks as if she was an angel, and in minutes, her wings would spread and explain why she always looks so heavenly to me.

Her pink, pale lips move forward as I place my kiss upon her mouth. I can hear the change in her breathing. She is ready and willing as I posture my body so that Marie can slide beneath me.

I move between her legs. Marie is waiting for me with an open heart. Her body is sensitive to my touch and her skin is heightened and bumped as if a chill come over.
“I can’t wait anymore,” I tell myself.
“I need her. I need to be inside of her.”
“I want everything,” I think to myself.
“I want it all.”
I want to spill myself inside Marie and call her my own. I want to leave her in a way that says, “You belong to me,” and have her know there will never be anyone else in the world that can make her feel the way I do.

“I love you,” she says.
Her words shake from the movement of my body.
“I love you too,” I tell her.

“I love you with all my heart.”

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