for the girl with the voice dipped in honey. | Teen Ink

for the girl with the voice dipped in honey.

July 2, 2018
By Anonymous

she’s staring at you; you feel as if you’ve never been seen more clearly than when under her focused gaze. you’re front and center in whatever lucid picture she’s taken of you inside her head and you wish you could be more for her.

I like your shoes.

you take her compliment and cradle it to your chest. you don’t look down- you don’t dare, not when she’s gazing at you this way- and you can barely find a voice to say thank you. she just nods, a smile quirking the corners of her mouth upwards like the sun peeking out from behind the clouds on a rainy day.

I’m Maya.

she’s maya. you can finally put a name to the brown eyes and bright blue hair that make you feel like there’s no ground beneath you. just air, and you’re falling, falling, falling. you’re not sure when it’ll stop but for some reason you can’t find a reason to want to. you’re scared, though. there’s nothing around you that’s close enough to grab onto and you’re still falling. will falling be your forever?

I’m Kaylie.

you’re kaylie. she pauses for a moment, and you swear she’s deciding whether or not the name flows off the tip of her tongue correctly. you want it to, you want it to more than anything. you want her to say your name softly; you want her to shout it for the world to hear. you want her to say your name special. you want her to say your name always.

you let yourself dream up an existence where you’ve met before. when you look into those eyes that stare, you feel like you’re coming home. when she wets her lips with her tongue, you know you’ve been there before. when she giggles at something you’ve said, you’ve heard it pressed against your ear more times than you can count.

I have to go, Kaylie, but can I get your Instagram?

trembling fingers type in your username; you’re not sure they belong to you. you can’t help but feel a surge of disappointment when she pulls away, even though you know it’s unwarranted. maya can’t be falling at the same time as you. she’s probably smart and  keeps safety nets and parachutes in her back pocket.

I’ll talk to you soon, okay?

she’ll talk to you soon. but not soon enough. it could never be soon enough as long as her voice is still dipped in honey, sweet and syrupy and oozing into all of your senses. as long as her shirt still says love is love like the most powerful of mantras, a steady beat that matches the most beautiful of love songs. as long as her eyes are portals to a place where falling is encouraged. where falling is mandatory.

Okay.

okay.

Bye, Kaylie.

goodbye.

See you soon, Maya.

for now.


The author's comments:

I wrote this about my girlfriend, Maya, and how we first met. 


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