Violet ValleyViolet Valley

Amateur

Something breaks in me when I watch you sleep. I know I shouldn’t think about, but I’m in that crucial moment. Go or stay. I should hold you even closer. Underneath the blanket, bodies curved together as spoons of bare warm flesh, we can forget for a while. Neither of us has to remember that this pocket of time, however beautiful, is always fleeting.I’ll go back to my little apartment, that tiny anonymous building where I don’t know anyone.You’ll go back home, that big house nestled above the valley that overlooks our city. From there, the city lights below and stars in the vast above are almost exact mirrors of one another in their distant glittering beauty. How they look so distant from one another but also seem to meet and fold together in the dark horizon always reminds me of us.I remember the view there so many so many times with you. The sky was always a raw dark blue there, almost the specific color of your name on some nights. We would either sit in my car or smoke outside and look skyward. Your hand slipped into mine the last time we were there, damp with the evening air and our own heat.Little squeezes every now and then. I’d squeeze back each time, certain we communicated through some Morse code of touch, our bodies acting as conduits able to decode such signals.I also remember the first time. It was summer, the night when everyone is drinking and setting off fireworks. We met miles away from your house, parked in the dark. From that high point, you can see the valley’s horizon where the city ends, where mountains begin. They look like mysterious, sleeping stone giants at night, ancient and towering.I don’t remember what we were talking about or if we even actually spoke. I remember perfume, şişli escort the warm rush of air as you leaned in. I remember your kiss, redolent of sweet wine, growing more urgent by the second.The memory of your scent and more would linger upon my lips all night. Bare thighs slowly parting, skin aglow with clear moonlight.Making love as bursts of light began to explode in beautiful temporary rainbows. Your moans muffled from the random concussive blasts.Everything that had been held back by us before coming out in the ways our bodies spoke to one another. How you clamp around when I’m inside, the most primal and possessive of embraces. How we held each other after, like some shift in gravity pushed us as close together as humanly possible. Without words, telling me I belong to you.We’re far past that night.And right now, in this late hour, is often when one of us goes as the other remains asleep. It’s never been a spoken agreement. It’s like we both know leaving that way is easier than trying to say goodbye and promising we’ll meet up here again.Something wants to break in me as I watch you, something I don’t have a name for. It’s not my heart. That’s been broken before. This runs through there and travels deeper. It’s the part of me that wants to soothe you no matter how much we hurt each other.I’ve seen countless slivers, sides of you over time. Good and bad. The opaque territories that lie in between. Since they are each one of the many puzzle pieces that make you, they are beautiful to me. You’ve shown me anger and tenderness. Fragility and strength. The possessive and cold. The vulnerable and the vindictive. The close and the painful distant.I’ve only seen you escort şişli cry once, though. Naked, spooning face to face. I always hold you close. The calm, beautiful aftermath of consuming each other. There were very few words between us, but I knew something was wrong. Something you wouldn’t get specific about.Your features suddenly softening, lips trembling, hand squeezing mine as I held you tighter. Face burying into my shoulder, I could warm droplets on my skin before hearing you cry.I could feel your heart’s erratic drumming, like the beating wings of a small, terrified bird. You whispered things that painted enough of a picture. About feeling alone at home. Hurt. And never being enough.I know those things all too well.Beyond there, the words are mostly unintelligible sobs. I’ll never repeat any of the other snippets I caught. One thing we’ve always had in common is knowing how to keep the other’s secrets closely guarded. Despite the pain we’ve inflicted at times, we never turn secrets into ammunition or blades.I’ve never been very good with people. I see too many things in numbers, quantifiable and tangible measurements. Telling you or anyone else how I feel has never come easy. Such exposure has often terrified me. I mean, is there anything more vulnerable than granting another access to your every weakness? It leaves us naked in ways that bare skin never could.That sector of me shuts down with most people. It’s the reason why I’ve been called (even by you) cold and closed off.But I still knew more than enough to just hold you tight then. Anchor you to some semblance of safety, tether you to something real that would never flee from you. Just hold you and say nothing mecidiyeköy because there were no words that could break through and mend whatever gulf of pain you were feeling.That moment alone was almost enough to make me forget that you would leave an hour later, placed a soft kiss above my temple first. You love me. But, there’s also more that you need.It was the first time in my life I realized, despite what everything in me screams, that love may not be enough sometimes. You never knew I cried after you left. I could never tell you or anyone else. It belongs to me.And now, I take note of the things I’ll miss by leaving. They are countless and immeasurable, all bearing entwined nuances that I can’t quite wrap words around. That’s how I know they mean something. I think of earlier tonight…I could describe how every peak and valley of your bare skin is rippled with gooseflesh before any contact. It’s as if your body is sensing moments that have yet to take place, reacting to a premonition of my knowing touch.I could describe the quiet gasp that escapes when the pads of my thumbs circle your nipples, beautiful buds responsive, immediately hardening. Or how your legs part so slowly when my fingers travel inside. Slow, even though the rest of your body trembles with need as fingers pump velvety depths.I could describe the teeth that sink into your lower lip in that magnified moment when I slip inside you. The following kiss, warm and sweet. The taste of an extravagant wine I could never name.Or how my every nerve ending flares, surrenders in supernova, when your nails rake my back. How the map of scratches you leave only burn, later on, a delicious sting awakened to tell me that I’m beyond marked. That, no matter what, a part of me is yours, forever claimed.Your legs becoming a tight lock around me, pulling harder with each deep, quickening thrust. Eyes locked together while our vocal chords failed to form words, reduced to grunts, moans, and whimpers.

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