And you crash into me ...
Sweet like candy to my soul,
Sweet you rock,
And sweet you roll.
Lost for you, I'm so lost for you,
You come crash into me
And I come into you.
It is nice knowing he is real. That he is tangible, that I can see him, and touch him, and feel him, and breathe him in to fill all my senses. I love running my fingers over him- over his chest, down his neck, through his hair ... it reminds me that he really is there with me. That this beautiful boy beside me is not just a figment of my imagination, a repercussion of my need to have somebody to love, to love me back. Maybe that is why I always want to be near him, with him, around him. Because I need to know that he is still there. Still beside me. Still with me. Still as enraptured with me as I am with him.
As he sat on the stool, I watched him closely from the wings. In the darkness, all I could hear were his lithe fingers moving swiftly across ivory keys. And although he was playing for an audience that solely consisted of me, I knew that he was imagining the crowds that would gather in a couple of hours, the screams that would exhilerate and motivate him, and the cries that would inevitably be for him. He loves them, as much as he says otherwise. He loves every minute of it. Because he is music, and music is him, and no matter what other silly factors are involved, its sheer simplicity overpowers everything else. He lives for that- that one moment in time where everything and everyone else becomes second place, and all that matters, all that he can hear and feel, is the music.
It is almost disheartening to come to the conclusion that I will never mean as much as the music does. But, I am okay with that, most of the time. Music was a part of him long before I ever was.
I started walking towards him, gingerly, cautiously. I did not want to disturb him but the creak of the floor boards gave me away. He stopped, suddenly, abruptly. And instantly, I felt horrible for tearing him away from something he loved so much. But he smiled. That beautiful, genuine, full smile. Immediately my apprehension left as he motioned for me to near him. No words were uttered as I walked towards him. He stood just as I reached the grand piano. Still blanketed in the silence of the darkened auditorium, his arms found their place around my waist as my head fit perfectly against his shoulder. It is a common practice position of ours. One in which I feel the most comfortable, most safe, most beautiful.
His lips on mine are wet, soft, and warm, all at once. Most of all, though, they are familiar and that is one of the most comforting things ever. His arms around my waist are strong and pull me against him as he buries his head in my hair and murmurs something against my skin. Something that resembles an "I love you" but holds more depth and reassurance. It is times like that- standing in the middle of a stage, in a dark and empty theatre- that I want to devour him whole. I want to be his everything.
As we take three stumbling steps backwards, we are pressed up against the piano. Limbs entwined, mouths crushed forcefully and heatedly against the other. So lost in it all, we do not realize the literal music we are making. As hands fumble, limbs unconsciously hit ivory; sharps, flats and naturals echo through the hall, entwined with deep breathing, whimpers, and moans of gratification.
I am always amazed at the way we fit perfectly against each other, the way the contours of his body and my body slide together, almost as if we are both pieces to a giant jigzaw, created for the sole purpose of connecting to the other. Nothing can describe the way he makes me feel, the way his calloused fingers make me shudder when they are running across my skin, the way his warm lips make me whimper as they trail down my neck, the way he feels when he reaches depths, pushes limits, and makes me feel ... everything.
For that split second in time, in that darkened hall, all there is are two sweaty bodies, heavy breathing echoing through the walls; and for that one moment in time, we are perfect.
On an unrelated note, I spoke to Natalie for the first time ... ever. It was, I'm not sure, I'm sort of speechless about it still. It was during the show, and we were standing in the wings together, and she made a random comment about how good the band was sounding. I turned to her and said that it was the best I'd heard from them. And from there, we started talking. Albeit, it was just small talk about generic things related to the guys. I guess it was just safest that way. Don't get me wrong, this does not constitute anything. We are not about to be best friends and have girly sleep overs together and braid each other's hair. We just talked. And hesitantly at that. But I've come to realize that she is not how I assumed she would be. She really is beautiful, and I know why Taylor fell for her initially. She is gorgeous and I'm jealous ... but, enough of that. She is still his ex-wife and I am still cautious of that fact and of her.
Mom called me yesterday. Apparently she heard from Jen that we were going to be in Arizona again on Wednesday and she wants to come to the show. Hahaha, my mom is so weird >:) So, yes I think the family are going to the Tempe show if I can scam tickets off Taylor. I am sure he won't mind, I think he likes my mom more than he likes me anyway ;p I think Nicole goes back when we go to Arizona which is really very sad, because all this while she has been in LA and I've barely had any time with her. I will fix that! Later today I will take her out and do the big sister thing ;-*
Speaking of which, I am going to get some sleep. For some strange reason, I am absolutely exhausted ;x But remind me to WAKE UP because I need to pick Marit up from the airport, hahaha.
... Show your world to me.
Sweet you rock,
And sweet you roll.
Lost for you, I'm so lost for you,
You come crash into me
And I come into you.
It is nice knowing he is real. That he is tangible, that I can see him, and touch him, and feel him, and breathe him in to fill all my senses. I love running my fingers over him- over his chest, down his neck, through his hair ... it reminds me that he really is there with me. That this beautiful boy beside me is not just a figment of my imagination, a repercussion of my need to have somebody to love, to love me back. Maybe that is why I always want to be near him, with him, around him. Because I need to know that he is still there. Still beside me. Still with me. Still as enraptured with me as I am with him.
As he sat on the stool, I watched him closely from the wings. In the darkness, all I could hear were his lithe fingers moving swiftly across ivory keys. And although he was playing for an audience that solely consisted of me, I knew that he was imagining the crowds that would gather in a couple of hours, the screams that would exhilerate and motivate him, and the cries that would inevitably be for him. He loves them, as much as he says otherwise. He loves every minute of it. Because he is music, and music is him, and no matter what other silly factors are involved, its sheer simplicity overpowers everything else. He lives for that- that one moment in time where everything and everyone else becomes second place, and all that matters, all that he can hear and feel, is the music.
It is almost disheartening to come to the conclusion that I will never mean as much as the music does. But, I am okay with that, most of the time. Music was a part of him long before I ever was.
I started walking towards him, gingerly, cautiously. I did not want to disturb him but the creak of the floor boards gave me away. He stopped, suddenly, abruptly. And instantly, I felt horrible for tearing him away from something he loved so much. But he smiled. That beautiful, genuine, full smile. Immediately my apprehension left as he motioned for me to near him. No words were uttered as I walked towards him. He stood just as I reached the grand piano. Still blanketed in the silence of the darkened auditorium, his arms found their place around my waist as my head fit perfectly against his shoulder. It is a common practice position of ours. One in which I feel the most comfortable, most safe, most beautiful.
His lips on mine are wet, soft, and warm, all at once. Most of all, though, they are familiar and that is one of the most comforting things ever. His arms around my waist are strong and pull me against him as he buries his head in my hair and murmurs something against my skin. Something that resembles an "I love you" but holds more depth and reassurance. It is times like that- standing in the middle of a stage, in a dark and empty theatre- that I want to devour him whole. I want to be his everything.
As we take three stumbling steps backwards, we are pressed up against the piano. Limbs entwined, mouths crushed forcefully and heatedly against the other. So lost in it all, we do not realize the literal music we are making. As hands fumble, limbs unconsciously hit ivory; sharps, flats and naturals echo through the hall, entwined with deep breathing, whimpers, and moans of gratification.
I am always amazed at the way we fit perfectly against each other, the way the contours of his body and my body slide together, almost as if we are both pieces to a giant jigzaw, created for the sole purpose of connecting to the other. Nothing can describe the way he makes me feel, the way his calloused fingers make me shudder when they are running across my skin, the way his warm lips make me whimper as they trail down my neck, the way he feels when he reaches depths, pushes limits, and makes me feel ... everything.
For that split second in time, in that darkened hall, all there is are two sweaty bodies, heavy breathing echoing through the walls; and for that one moment in time, we are perfect.
On an unrelated note, I spoke to Natalie for the first time ... ever. It was, I'm not sure, I'm sort of speechless about it still. It was during the show, and we were standing in the wings together, and she made a random comment about how good the band was sounding. I turned to her and said that it was the best I'd heard from them. And from there, we started talking. Albeit, it was just small talk about generic things related to the guys. I guess it was just safest that way. Don't get me wrong, this does not constitute anything. We are not about to be best friends and have girly sleep overs together and braid each other's hair. We just talked. And hesitantly at that. But I've come to realize that she is not how I assumed she would be. She really is beautiful, and I know why Taylor fell for her initially. She is gorgeous and I'm jealous ... but, enough of that. She is still his ex-wife and I am still cautious of that fact and of her.
Mom called me yesterday. Apparently she heard from Jen that we were going to be in Arizona again on Wednesday and she wants to come to the show. Hahaha, my mom is so weird >:) So, yes I think the family are going to the Tempe show if I can scam tickets off Taylor. I am sure he won't mind, I think he likes my mom more than he likes me anyway ;p I think Nicole goes back when we go to Arizona which is really very sad, because all this while she has been in LA and I've barely had any time with her. I will fix that! Later today I will take her out and do the big sister thing ;-*
Speaking of which, I am going to get some sleep. For some strange reason, I am absolutely exhausted ;x But remind me to WAKE UP because I need to pick Marit up from the airport, hahaha.
... Show your world to me.