Firebomb

                                                    I will eat you slowly with kisses... Anne Sexton

I love to think about what kissing you feels like. What looking into your eyes would do to my insides. What the sound of your voice would do to my heart. We deserve to be alone with each other for a little while…with wine or coffee or just a beer. I imagine our conversations in my head and there is no doubt you would make me laugh…..at least I hope you would. I don’t think you’re perfect, who is? Even for just a day, I would like to know you a little bit.

I have so many questions I want to ask you but I think I would just let you talk. Saying whatever comes to your mind. I enjoy offering you support. Kind words. Something to think about. From this distance I try and touch you with words. My thoughts. All of it really a tenderness.

I know you’re not perfect. In fact, I will bet you’re quite maddening at times.

I am not in love with you. How could I be? You’re almost a stranger to me. I love brilliance and depth. Do you possess either?

Or would you be a heartbreaking disappointment? A hollow shell filled with nothing I should ever want to know about. A bruised human, callous and rigid with the depth of a puddle after a Summer rain shower.

This is not how I imagine you, no. To me you’re a firebomb. You’d land at my feet or into my gentle hands and set my world on fire.

I am your gasoline.

Author’s Note:

*this was inspired by an intriguing conversation over heard by me at a local cafe. A person obviously smitten with someone they hadn't gotten to know yet. I hope they get the answers to their questions soon enough.