The Book of When? – Chapter Twenty Two

I like it when there’s silence. I like the moments with no sound except for the sound of your breath or the assumption of your heartbeat, which is pounding in my dreams, or thumping, like a source of something, which is everything, but unstoppable.
I like the quietness of nighttime and the after-midnight sessions when my eyes open and there you are—next to me.
I like the feeling of you and the smell of your skin.

I love it when the night gets this way.

I love the candlelight and how the shadows flicker, like a scene from a movie, or the dream I have a fireplace.
I love a fireplace.
I love the sound it makes, which is not quiet, but the ease of the flames adds to a sense of romance, which is peaceful to me—and beautiful.

I like the sound of this wild séance—which is when two bodies combine or collide in the most spiritual of ways, which is cosmic, as if the Universe intended this very minute, as if the love gods and their angels, both designed and orchestrated such an event, which is fate and destiny. In the quiet moments of night, the world is asleep—but I am awake and, of course, I am considering the different scenarios of love-making.

And yes,
this is love.
If there is love, then this is it.
What else could this be?
Lust? Perhaps . . .
But whatever it is, I want it.
I want it all.

Do you want honesty?
Okay, fine. I admit it—I’m hooked.
I’m hopeless.
And fine.
This is a drug to me, mainlined and euphoric, soft and quiet, like a humble nod of a sunset as it drifts down as if to douses into the palm of the ocean and be extinguished for the day.
I am weightless, yet wired and alive, which is electric, like the shaft of moonlight that breaks through the blinds over the windows.
So, you know what I mean?
The color of moonlight, of course, —the bluish hue that seeps through the curtains and leaves moonbeams across your nipples—and your eyes are closed, your face is at rest, and me?
I am more alive now, simply thinking of this, and I am more alive now than ever been before.
I swear, if there is Heaven on Earth, then there is nothing as heavenly as this—you and your naked expression, folded and curled on your side, naked, sheets around you, the blanket slightly thrown, your eyes are closed, angel-like, the side of your face is pressed into the pillow—and your expression is soft and peaceful, pure, and innocent which, in fairness, this is what grabs me.
The soft appeal of your face and the gentleness of your innocent expression is something that brings my soldiers to battle.
My body arises, and I am prepared for war.
I am prepared for love. I am kind. I am hopeful and gentle yet, I am ravenous and enraged and hungry, unstoppable, like a beast. But rest assured, I am only in love which means that I am equally your protector.
Therefore, I must abide by the rules of love.
Always.

I am this.
I am my heart. I am the silence, which is me, thinking of ways that life can change, and how the features of love is something that I pray for, as in for always.

I am the one now who understands the faults of my flaws and the wrongs of my past, and the meanings behind my missteps.
I understand the times when I misspoke.
I am the definition of weakness and strength and love and hate.
I am that person. I am the one, and I am the only one who can feel this way.
No one else can feel as I do, except for me, and yes, therefore, I own this.

I own all of this.
I own my sins and my mistakes. I own my right to return and to try again. I own my wrongs, and the crimes of the heart.
I own my fears. I own my anxieties and the jealous ideas which have ruined my chances of having a real life, more than once.

I own the mockery of my own madness and the craziness which I have seen destroy good things and great moments because I was too scared to realize, “hey, this is wrong!”
I have to stop!

I do not deny my chaos, nor do I deny that I am chaotic.
I am never going to pretend to be anyone else.
I am never going to settle. I am never going to allow myself to compromise my dreams.

I am fit. I am crazy.
Yes. I am.
I am not perfect.

But I can say that above all things, all of this is true.
I am seeking to fight for what I believe. I am not waiting for the hopes to fall, like dying angels who lost their wars to demons of scattered faith.

I am not willing to forgo or to quit or to forfeit anything.
Not now. Nor ever again.

I can say it all,
but all I can really say is no.
I am not giving up.

I can say this once.
I can say this twice.
I can say this 909 times.
Oh wait . . .
I think I just did.