He smelled like sandalwood incense and cracked old leather, like rain on pavement and clove cigarettes his sister smoked in the room next to him. I think the fact that he smelled like a cabin in the woods is why I fell into him the way I did; he was comfortable. It didn’t stop at that simple detail- I remember he had brown eyes that were easy to call home, soft hair that was easy to call a crutch when I needed one. He was easy to look at, easy to listen to- because his lips were pink and thin but they let out bright red thick thoughts burning with that familiar warmth of a flame in a fireplace in the middle of a snowstorm. I liked when he touched me because I didn’t get chills but shots of warmth, like bold roast coffee was shooting through my veins at the speed of light, and I liked when he touched me because the roughness of his hands was only soft against my skin. It was easy to kiss him because my lips were pillowy on his and he said that it always felt like he was melting into clouds when his lips were on mine, because my lips were always soft on his. He sighed whenever we made love in the winter because he could always hear the snow settling on the ground, and he said it sounded sexy when it mixed with the plucky guitar and scratchy vocals. He said it sounded sexy because my hair glowed gold in candlelight. I sighed when we made love in the winter because his hands were rough when it was right and they were soft when it was wrong and his lips were gentle when I wished them to be harsh and his breath was soft when I tried for it to be heavy. Yet I sighed when we made love because it was beautiful and terrifying against the snow and the plucky guitar and his eyes turned honey colored in candlelight and his skin lit up against the flames. He said I smelled like flowers and laundry detergent, like fire smoke and peppermint soap, and he said that I fell into his arms like the snow fell on the tree tops outside. He liked me that way, he said. 

shespeaksyvon:

Spoken Word - Comfortable

Sitting here, I start to think about my love for you. You see, my love for you has become very much like sitting in this chair. I am comfortable in it. The once fluffy armrests have lost some of their lift, but they are shaped to fit just how I like to lay my arms. See what I mean? Comfortable. And this is how I love you, with the same quiet warmth of an old chair. You may think that sounds strange. I promise you it is a good thing. We’ve gone through enough to surpass the founding stages of love. I have moved on from whimsical dreams and butterflies in my stomach. I no longer hope for the feelings of first kisses and shared evenings. These things are loud to me. My love for you is quiet. It whispers, it treads softly, it reads in the corner of my day. My love for you doesn’t fly, it doesn’t dance, it doesn’t allow me to walk on air. But, it does warm the house when it is cold. My love for you is flannel pajamas and fluffy house slippers. It is hot cocoa and black and white films. My love for you is steady. It doesn’t change with the weather like waves that rage upon the shore one day and kiss it the next. My love is a sequoia growing tall but also reinforcing itself with every root. I know you don’t understand why I love you this way. I am okay with that. All you really need to understand is that my love is here; and, I am comfortable in it.