The Before
I can’t wait for the butterflies.
For noticing freckles I hadn’t on first glance.
The way the corners of their mouth curls up when they smile, and how their bottom row of teeth are crowded, probably from not wearing their retainer after they got their braces off in the seventh grade.
The rush every time your phone buzzes and you think, pray, it might be them.
The adrenaline rush that can only be felt at the helm of total insecurity,
of not knowing how somebody feels about you.
I miss having a crush, what a wonderfully juvenile term.
The anxiety that consumes you as you try to make sense of sideways glances across crowded social functions.
Afraid I’m not going to say the right thing, so of course I say everything wrong.
Early day stuff, second date--not that this is a date!...Is it?
I miss the horrible games, because that’s what they are, child’s play.
Waiting hours to respond to messages, even though my phone hasn’t left my side, not to seem too eager.
Unaware that my face hides nothing and I begin smiling every time they cross my mind.
Finding ways to bring every conversation with my bored and patient friends back to them.
Though I long to be
kissed
loved
wanted
I long for what comes before even more.
the potential
the what if
the maybe
Hanging in the air between us
Tension so thick you could slice it with a knife and smear it with butter.
Time slowing.
Heart stopping.
Will they Won’t they
Both waiting for each other to make the first move.
A fleeting moment no caring, stable relationship could ever hold on to.
That’s what makes it so addictive,
Why people get hooked on the chase.
Electric.
I wonder if this moment will lose it’s allure as I age.
Like a book yet to be cracked, a chapter unread, I long to run my finger down the spine of someone new and begin to thumb through.
And when I finally find them I’ll think
“Where have you been hiding?”
I want to see myself through the eyes of somebody who has yet to see the ugly parts of me.
Before the fighting
Before the routine
Before the repetition
I want to preserve that moment, keep it it in a jar tucked lovingly between the marmalade and jam.
When eyes meet, before every particle of your being screams for you to tear your own away.
I want to float weightlessly in that space, soak in it, drown myself in the possibility of what could be.
I suppose I’ve fallen in love with the trap I keep falling in to,
Attaching myself to the idea of somebody over who they actually are.
Seeking a personification of a part of myself,
A physical projection of me in somebody I’ve yet to meet.
How am I supposed to focus on the movie when I’m so acutely aware of the proximity between your body and mine, can feel the heat radiating from you those few inches away.
e
s
i
Conscious of my breathing, the r and f of my chest,
a
l
l
With every exhale afraid I might shift in a way that will make them pull a w a y.
The moment right before you touch somebody for the first time--
I want to remember everything.
Time slows while my mind is going a mile a minute,
Before it turns out they’re actually a bad kisser.
While I’m still perfect in your eyes, and you in mine,
Perfect for each other.
While you’re still quiet and mysterious,
before I realize you just had nothing to say.
While I stand across a crowded room, your eyes in mine for a fleeting moment, and think
this might be the one.