I
want to be a book that sleeps beside your bed, the one you reach for when you
cannot find the backs of your eyes and paint with your own ink to highlight the
sentences that highlighted something inside you. The bent pages and water
damaged spine and the ring of brown where your coffee mug couldn’t help but sit
when the skin on your fingers couldn’t handle the heat any longer. Let me be
the tanlines you don’t know you have, from where the sun reached in for a kiss
but found fabric or metal or shade instead. The halo of lighter skin that lives
under your ring or the lines below your toes that trace the days you wore
flip-flops instead. Would you love me more if I was your favorite dress? The one
that came out on special occacions and made your lips do that little pursed
smirk during your last glance for the last time in your last mirror on your way
out the door. The silent nod of approval that all things are in the right place
and tonight, yes tonight, you feel beautiful. The one that drops jaws and
raises eyebrows and forces hearts to speed up when slowing down for the night
was all they had on their agenda. I had a dress I was rainfall, but the kind
that followed you around and only feel in your hair. The little cloud that
carried me was a magnet to the metal in your blood and sticks to you through
the comic strip course of your afternoon. The kind that rains from under your
umbrella as if your umbrella alone created it; Let me be that rain as you gorgeous
realization that wet socks should drive you crazy but just cannot today, just
will not if it’s me that’s the water and your socks are drinking me like they
are dying of thirst.
I want to be conversation that’s
hold entirely without words but instead with the ballet of your lips on my
lips. The slight pauses and the long drawn out sighs. The world that translate
themselves as we pull our mouths apart for moment just the memorize the exact
smell and taste and tactile imprints that we were left with. The arguments that
takes place under sheets instead of a cross tables, the peaceful resolution
that come as I wash your hair in the shower and see the letters of our disagreement
whirlpool themselves around the drain before vanishing forever. The soup
bubbles that pop all around us and each carry the same sounds if only we were small
enough to hear, do they all say how silly we have been? How small the furniture
in the household of that fight? How croocked the paintings and how sloped the
walls of that fighting fit of an argument? I wonder what it would feel like to
be anger or sadness or even regret inside you? I would love to be any emotion
that you, whitout knowing why you do or even be able to help the fact that it’s
habit now, keep bottled up deep inside you. I want to know what it feels like
to shake you from your skeleton and rattle those bones and make every freckle dance
with how hard your skin shakes. Then I want to be the calm that washes over you
and the realization that you are exactly where you are supposed to be and that
no one, not any one , can ever take that way as long as you believe in it.
I want to be the smell of your childhood
home and the reaction your body has when something smell exactly like it. That instant
transportation to somewhere simpler. I want to be 5:00am on Christmas morning
and the way that every other person in the family yells at you to make it at
least 7, come on, this year, at least 7. Maybe I could be a dog that followed
you home one day or looked at you with just the right combination of love and
need that stopped your feet for shuffling out the shelter door and turn on the
spot you stood to rescue me. Maybe if I was a dog, on the day I died all you
would ever possibly remember were the good moments and good things I did and
never the mistakes or the times I broke things that shouldn’t be broken or
acted just a little too defensive and willing to show everyone everywhere that you
belonged to me, and I belonged to you.
Tulisan ini saya ketik ulang dari kutipan milik Tyler Knott.
