Passionately, we stood there. He had me pressed up against the wall in the hotel lobby by the elevator; and, for some beautiful reason, I was letting him pin me there. Our bodies moved together, and somehow the outside world melted. His lips danced confidently on mine, and all I could think of was kissing him back. I wanted to touch his hair, his cheek and somehow have it go on forever. Who cared if it was 3 a.m. anyways? I certainly didn’t. All I knew was that I desperately wanted to stay in his arms, because everything was all right there. When I kissed him, I didn’t know when or how to stop; and, when I wasn’t, I was wanting to.
I nestled against him and held him tightly. I didn’t want to leave, wasn’t ready to. I love him, damn it, and I’m finally letting myself feel it. In his arms I’m letting go. It feels a lot like a medic taking my hand, pulling out and crushing the dagger lodged in my chest and then telling me I wan’t dead after all. I was alive all along, not dead, just sleeping.
Wow. Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow. He is truly loving me, accepting me back. Where are the tears that stained my guitar so long? Where is pain? Where is sadness? They are the way I hold him, the way I breathe and in the beautiful way that we are kissing, just standing there against the wall.
This prose poem is Copyright 2013 by Jessica Anne McLean. All rights reserved. File sharing is encouraged.
The Rose 
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