My Heart Still Skips a Beat

It’s just you and me. Alone. We never thought this day would come. Why can’t you just leave and spare me the smoldering fire within the hearth of my heart. You want to go to your sanctuary, you say. You know better than this. You know I’m not going to be capable of declining. So we walk side by side. I take in every detail of you, memorize you again to compensate for what was lost.

That fire was out. It had died. But I gave you the matches. You lit the fire. That snap of electricity smacks me square in the face. Once again my heart is pounding. You aren’t new or exciting or wonderful. You’re just unreasonably intoxicating. You open the door. Heart skips a beat. There’s no one in the room. I could pass out. I casually grab a chair near the door. You think it’s because I’m about to sit down. You’re wrong. It’s because the thought of being alone with you after this eternity is just too tempting.

You run your hands along the orchestra instruments. Palms start to sweat. I either want to a) slap you for putting me in the this situation or b) stride across to where you are and slam my lips into yours. It takes all my self control not to do either or both of the above. If our lips ever did meet again it would have catastrophic consequences. That concentrated fire would rage into a fast moving fireball of passion.


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