Some Brief Overreactions
Some Brief Overreactions romance stories
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siobhanchapman
siobhanchapman Community member
Autoplay OFF   •   4 years ago
you’re like this candle, this bright little 5’3” bundle of warmth that you have to lean real close into in order to soak up all the light and the heat and comfort, and then you’re this melodic yet compelling whisper in some crowded room that breathes some gentle wisdom to no one in particular among the awful clamor, and then

Some Brief Overreactions

you’re like this candle, this bright little 5’3” bundle of warmth that you have to lean real close into in order to soak up all the light and the heat and comfort, and then

you’re this melodic yet compelling whisper in some crowded room that breathes some gentle wisdom to no one in particular among the awful clamor, and then

me, I’m like a microwave or toaster or some kind of machine that traps things, holds them too tight, inflicts that obvious, ever-buzzing, bright heat, or

I might be a drunken night of speaking a little too loud, fast, and much,

and of shitty breakfast food at 2 AM and of impressively tripping on flat ground and then waking up with only mildly fond hazy memories, but overwhelmingly with scrapes, bruises, regret

— and it’s the night of our second date, hours later,

and I’m levitating over my bed, butterflies still afloat in my stomach and chest and everywhere else

and my mind, still with its eyes on your lips

and then I sink back down deep into someplace, tons of earth

covering my body and collapsing my lungs,

enveloping everything,

and I’m thinking up all these observations and wondering when I can share them with you,

maybe I’ll be inebriated in a month and it’ll slip,

or maybe I’ll be the most sober I’ve ever been in a year or two, and I’ll share everything, while my sweaty palms try to latch on to your graceful hands,

and while I stare into those pensive eyes of yours that mine have been so nervous to come to terms with,

or maybe one day, I’ll hide them away

from you in some stupid song

and confound it all

and sing so soft and so slurred so that they’re so far beyond recognition

and hope you’re distracted by the droning harmonic repetition

you’ll shoot me a fleeting look of inquisition

and I’ll make dumb jokes to skirt ambition

maybe you’ll quietly wonder what I’m saying

or thoughtfully ask who I’m talking about

or maybe you’ll just hum along to the stupid melody,

and I’m smiling now, I kind of like my odds with that option

and maybe you just never know and maybe that’s ok.

— and now it’s been a little while

We haven’t spoken since that day

and now all that earth and all those butterflies feel wasted

just a little something for me to carry around for a long time

observation is risky

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