It starts with the “v” created just underneath the little hollow in the middle of your collarbone, at the base of your neck. But then there are the buttons. And the tiny glimpse of skin between them. I will free the buttons of their flannel traps and so, free your skin. I will watch your grin widen as I unfasten each button with the satisfying motion of my fingers. I have no need for the soft skin of you to be hidden from me any longer. Let me reveal it. Button by button. Let me free you of the flannel barrier between your skin and mine.
You are the wilderness in me,
uncharted and untamed.
Your tenderness crashes like a river around my heart
and your words spike the mountains of my heartbeat.
You are the freedom of the ocean
whispering inside my wanderlust soul.
You help me discover things about myself
like paths not yet taken through the trees of my past.
You touch every piece of me with an unfathomable love
like the sun caressing the first new growth of spring
and coaxing it from the earth.
I come into my own,
wild and free,
new life breathed into me
by a love I’ve never known before.
Have you ever had trouble finding the right words to tell someone how much you love them – how grateful you are to have them in your life? I have. What comes out is a sound. A sound somewhere between a grunt and a sigh. Something that sounds like frustration, disbelief, admiration and love all rolled into one. I say frustration because this frustrates me. I tend to be pretty good with words and am always open and willing to share my thoughts and opinions. But with this I just get tongue tied sometimes.
For me, one of two things follows the sound. I either give up and just simply tell the person I love them, or I launch into a rant listing off all of the things I love about that person as they pop into my head. This can go on for several minutes. I stop eventually but usually more reasons that I love them start popping into my head a few minutes later and then I’m tempted to start a fresh list with these reasons.
I think this feeling of not having the right words is important for me. It’s important because it means that I’ve found someone who loves me in spite of and/or because of all my talking but has the power to reduce all of my noise to a single sound and as much as that scares me, I keep going back for more. It’s like I no longer have enough control over my thoughts and voice to make them connect coherently but for once I’m okay with surrendering that control. I’m okay with the vulnerability of not having a quick response or sarcastic remark. I’m more than okay with it. I welcome it. I anticipate it.
I’m not good at being vulnerable. Never have been. So the fact that I’ve found someone who can make me vulnerable and I allow it and welcome it? That’s major. I’ve also learned something. Being vulnerable doesn’t drive love away – it helps love grow. I’ve been vulnerable more than once and this person hasn’t run yet. Far from it. This person loves me. Why did I think that being vulnerable once in a while was such a terrible thing? I know now that I was wrong. Yes, it’s scary but it’s definitely worth it.
Uh oh. I think I’m in deep.