Maybe He's Right

He says that I'm looking for somebody to devour me.  Maybe he's right.  I'm looking for somebody to look at me the way you do.  From a distance.  Across the room, the table, the empty space between us that feels like miles. Even when it's not. Because you've found my eyes.  Holding them.  Like that.  Only, I'm not that cliche 'swimming in your eyes', because that requires movement.  Bodily functions that I can't manage, because I'm held. Still. Locked.  Eye to eye.  With you.  Drowning, in the unromantic way.  Shallow breathing, a scream that can't escape.  The room also becomes still.  I'm reminding myself to breath in and out, but my lungs have stopped expanding.  Unable to look away.  Until I do.  Scared to look your way again.  Until I can't think of anything else, my muscles weak and tight, and I want to laugh because I feel 'weak in the knees', but my muscles are too tight for that type of release.  I gasp for breath but the loud room stifles any noise that would have escaped my half-open mouth.  So it turns out to be not a gasp at all.  But a smile.

The room spins carelessly now, and I can't find a soul who noticed the pause in time.  Chaos until I'm drawn to you.  Again.  I'm trying to weigh consequences, but the syllables of the word trip me up, and I'm looking in your direction.  Again.  Scared to find your eyes.  Scared to feel the room stop moving again.  Scared that all the fingers, of all the people, will point at me.  For stopping time.  For interrupting their dance step and the band's high note.  Scared that your eyes will no longer be there.

You're moving in my direction. It's hardly fast enough.  But too fast all at once, my stomach back-flipping, and my fingers tingling.  I want to run; it should be away from you, but I'm certain that if I moved a muscle it would be in your direction, so the best thing I can do is stand still.  While the room blurs and you come into focus.  Your hand on the dip above my hip.  Gently, firmly.  Steady.  Your mouth on mine. 

He says I'm looking for somebody to devour me.  Maybe he's right.