"If I knew all the words, I would write myself out of here." MRAZ

Friday, September 2, 2011

reason and logic be damned

The magnetism was intense.
She couldn’t deny its existence as they grew to know each other more and more. It pulled at her anytime he was close. It was like the smell of baking cookies: tantalizing and mouthwatering with the promise of sweetness.

Knowing that he was near warmed her. She felt washed in yet-unknown nostalgia; you could say comfort, which made her feel inexplicably safe and accepted. What bothered her was not being able to understand why. There was no history between them, no relationship beyond that of friendly acquaintance.

But, as she made the occasion to spend more and more time with him, the pull was stronger, harder to ignore.

On the first night they ventured into the friendly space, sharing time just getting to know each other over a few drinks, she felt this barely-escapable need to grab his face and kiss the breath out of him. The desire to touch him made her fingers tingle with want.

And, then, there was a weekend away. It was particularly difficult because they were together as friends with two other couples. It made the situation perfect for falling into each other and exploring the essence of shared space. There was a moment of enlightenment for her: they worked really well with each other. Their souls met and connected on the same living plane. Being was easy, happier.

She noted all these things as they prepared and shared meals together, working towards a common goal in the kitchen. She observed as he made 2 perfect cups of coffee and invited her to the porch swing for several moments of appreciating the cool night air, the rain and the pressure of their bodies sitting close together. She was awed at the absolute-happy intonation of their shared periodic sighs. It was as if something deep within them had found contentment, a soul-satisfying contentment that ignores all arguments of reason or logic.

The next morning, through the pouring-down rain, there was a silent parallel-reality tryst; silent except for the heavy intakes of breaths and soul-cleansing exhales. Ties of deeper connection were double knotted in some alternate universe in front of the others as they spent an innocent morning talking over nothing in particular.

Her life was sucked into a deep state of want: intense want over this soul that had been in front of her for over a year. The wanting expanded to all layers of her existence. She wanted him all to herself, for shared hours of deep breathing and pressed bodies. She wanted him to be happy and asked him what it would take; and encouraged him to be himself, because the him that she saw was delightful, intense, intoxicating, and she was sad to learn that he didn’t realize the whole of it yet.

Their first kiss happened shortly after the weekend trip. It was a night of ignoring reason, of sharing wine and talk, of teasing the fire of passion until it was too much to contain. Laying down on the couch together, he had rubbed her face gently with his thumb and titled her head just so before pressing his lips against hers. She exploded. Her mind was mush. The want of it, the want of him; the want of more, of as much as she could hold, completely possessed her. She found a new default existence and was happy to find him there to share it.
Beyond happy, she was blissed-out.

The magnetism was intense; is intense.

She remembers that first kiss and tingles still shoot through her body. She thinks about the kisses that have followed and pure joy floods her sense of being. She wants more kisses now and finds that the want leaves her breathless and soul-lonely.

They fostered the connection for a short time. It made them full and happy. There was a new-found realization of togetherness, of partnership that their base-level shared-essence understood and accepted as perfectly normally, finally right.

Their reason and logic scoffed and made spectacle of all the arguments proving their companionship doomed. The new, young shared-ness was no match for practiced cynicism.

Reason and logic won.
It is the saddest thing, she thinks.

Their personalities battled the case of differences, of extreme differences. They stomped and raged the particulars; and their minds conceded. Wills were soon to follow.

They cried over it, at first together.
Now, she cries alone; damning reason and logic to the hell-holes in which they belong for destroying such a beautiful, organic co-existence.

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