Drowning in LovePosted: December 24, 2014
Love changes you. Mine changed Papa Bear. He finished my book of letters in a day, and things were immediately different–cemented.
He has all of me–my everything. A dam broke.
We were in bed, loving each other madly. Inch by inch, then all at once.
“I wish I could be with you all the time,” he said. “I have grown around you. It doesn’t matter where I am, or what I’m doing–if you’re not there I’m missing you. It hurts.”
“Never let me go,” I whispered.
“I wish there were better words to describe. . .this. How I need you. How you make me feel. How I’m jealous over you.I want all of you. All your curves and all your edges,” he said, quoting a favourite song of ours.
“Sing me a song,” I said.
I nodded sleepily.
He half-murmured, half-sang a children’s song about a kitty.
I laughed and shook my head. And then, in a voice that was still husky from sickness and sex, I sang him a love song.
“If you are falling. . .then I would catch you. You need a light. . .I’ll find a match. Cause I. . .love you more than I could ever promise. . .and you. . .take me the way I am.”
“Oh. . .my. . .god. . .” he said.
I smiled my half smile that is only for him. “What?”
“I have never known passion like this,” he half spoke, half-growled.
There was kissing. Touching. The raking of fingers through hair. Over and over and over, the words “I don’t want to let you go.”
Then he drove me home, and there were no more words besides those we sang to each other, with the I-pod, set to “sappy and raw”, as back-up.
Everything has changed.
We’re not falling in love, anymore. We’re drowning in it.