She pulled me into the pile of leaves, and my first thought was that her lips looked more kissable, which was obviously entirely impossible. The ground was dank underneath the pile, but her exuded energy warmed every layer of earth beneath us, while she laughed at nothing. Or everything, because to her, existence was all a tangled but beautiful joke. Never could I tell what was laughable to her, and who she enjoyed more: herself or the idea of me.
She let me get up from the pile and start walking away, but yanked my arm the second I was a safe distance. That’s how she is; she lets you feel like she’s leaving you alone right before she promises to never leave you. In that moment I was hooked, as if I had a choice. I believe long ago she chose me, and established everything. She established every joke that could make me laugh, every touch that could make me quiver, and every beautiful phrase that would make my heart latch to hers. I couldn’t rationalize her decision making, and I would bet that if you dug deeper into her psyche, she would shudder at the questioning of it all.
Moments later, she wandered away from the pile as if she hadn’t done anything. Of course, she was like that; she wandered away from the chaos she caused and moved on to another pile, and laid down to watch the stars. I wondered far too often since that moment, if she would wander away from me as easily as she could wander away from that leaf pile. I decided it didn’t matter, because I was hers, even if it was only for as long as the wind carries the leaves.
Created: Apr 25, 2017emily_yarnall Document Media