01

I find in life, Surprises fail to cease.

I have found, each added day I live, I learn more about myself with each exhalation.

As I pull a coffee cup gently to my lips, my heart will pulsate just one beat quicker, and those eyes will fall upon my head.

I will shut my own and press the froth to my skin, tilting the cup gently, the sharp taste quietly swarming my tongue.

Those eyes will still be on mine, rested uncontrollably upon my eyelids.

I will be unable to stare back.

I will watch the seams along my jeans, run my fingers gently along my thigh and trace the orange stitching on black thread.

When I have swallowed, when my throat drowns in heat and my fingertips are softly pressed against each other, I will have no choice, no control; but to look up.

When I do, my pulse will race, just one added beat extra.

I won't know why, I won't understand that haunting word "magnetism", I won't understand the controlling nature of incertitude, I won't understand why any of this is uncontrollable, why detachment is an impossibility, why it is of such a raw nature.

I will merely raise my head from my coffee cup, glance across the table, and see their eyes have wandered off to the distance, watching a cat sprawl across the pavement, resting in a pool of sunlight.

I will find myself smiling.

I will feel that irresistible tingle upon my lips, that slight curve at the edges, the slight touch of my teeth against the lining of my skin, and I will just smile.

I will sit and have no answers.

I will, for once, have no answers, and understand their futility to such extent; I will not question their existence.

I will find myself questioning nothing, analyzing nothing, neither demanding nor reprieving from nothing.

I will merely smile for the fact, I am happy in this one moment.

I will remember a song that once played, I will remember the person whose eyes bore into my skull each time a particular note began to play. I will sit, and for a second, my breath will recede, as I remember what they had meant, and what emotions the memory of their eye's glint now brings to the fore.

My smile will falter briefly, as the pang of bitter remembrance, of vulnerability, of futility, hits my ribs, just a little too hard.

I will wrap my fingers across a porcelain cup, as hard as I can, and raise my head once more.

I will notice that I now find myself in a life of which I had not dared to have thought existed.

A life of which I could not have promised to myself, I could not hope for; a life of which I did not think could be lived, rather than written about.

I will smile for that. I will dispel the sinking feeling of nostalgia, and realize life has beaten me.

Life has brought me to grow one way, to believe in nothing, to hope for nothing, to take joy in each thing I could touch, rather than believe in fate, in destiny.

Life has beaten me; life has torn me from my cocoon of protection, of a protected heart, of a strong invulnerable girl, and placed me gently on new ground.

Not with pins striking to an exposed heart, but into arms broad and secure.

Life has brought me to silence, with just one word.

It has unlocked the child that had been destroyed by misery, and has shown her the world of silent movies, of indecipherable poetry, of melancholic music.

The world of unspoken truths, the world of words lost on smiling lips. The world where eyes linger that second too long, and the touch of palm upon palm does more than preserve warmth.

The world where touch can create electricity.