i always come back to his mouth- if i close my eyes i can trace the cupid-like curve of his top lip without pause, and the way he loved me so innocently and without want of anything in return. he would speak, and the most angelic of things would fall into my lap, and i would sit there holding his words in my palms, so still, in shock, awe or amazement who knows, so afraid that if i made one wrong move, i would shatter the tender fragility of the moment into such fine dust that there would be no hope of ever glueing it back together. christ woman what are you doing, i would think to myself- terrified of what would happen if i finally let someone in, and it shouldn’t be him, i am not used to handling hearts that still beat with life and love- just the jaded hearts belonging to those of late-night longings and drug induced lust. with him, it all felt like the first time, as though i was the one less experienced- like i had never loved before, and really, had i? in the mornings of our first weeks, cradled in the bliss of our tryst, i would lay there quietly not daring to breathe, hours before he woke as the dirty old blinds began to glow gold and silver with dawn, filling the wet and shivering room with an eerie weight- his arm pinning down what was left of me earthside, and whisper i love you i love you i love you watching the words fall like snowflakes behind my eyes where they would land in a cold puddle melting over my heart- god i can’t breathe. my ribcage was not made to contain this much feeling, so frightened it may burst, certain the clean-up would not be as pretty as he believed me to be as i sat astride his lap- beautiful, he would say, so beautiful and he would kiss me tenderly hungrily all consuming. he would kneel over me as i lay angel winged and trembling, and i would bite back tears at his beauty- wishing in that moment he could see himself through my eyes, certain that he would never doubt who he was again if he knew what i knew to be true. but i kept my mouth shut. i was so careful, to roll away, to play coy enough that i was safe behind my barricade of outrageous flirting, poking and prodding, safe being boyish and brute- but then he broke down the wall before i even had time to consider if it would be okay, came crashing into me so hard that as i fell i reached out to steady myself, only to realise i had nothing to hold- and so i held onto him, i held onto him. and for the first time i fell into arms strong enough to catch me, a heart strong enough to hold my own, as fearful and slippery it may be. and as i fell, i promised myself i would never be silent again; i would love loudly; proudly. i vowed that one day he would know of how he brought colour back into the life of a girl who had grown so cold that she did not recognise herself behind the white sheet of severity and silence, how he without knowing taught her to love herself again through his love of her. how he pulled at her loose threads she thought she had tidied up so carefully, pulled and pulled with such a curiosity until she unravelled a spool of red and blue before him. and in the colour, he remained, not afraid of the mess and non sense, not afraid of the stains her melting heart could make. and so i will always come back to his mouth, and this time i am unafraid.