Exhausting Purpose

We stopped, whole heartedly belting out a terrible tune- getting the words all wrong. And I remember thinking that there was no line between today and yesterday. Just the moon and the stars separating a tired old sun and our beating hearts counting the hours. Frail to amusement that came around once and a while; but mostly only heavy silence and cartoon anxiety.
We were ticked off school kids with a flaming desire for nothing more then adventure. Terrorizing hallways with our get back glares and mouths full of gossip. Far more oblivious than we could have ever imagined; with every purpose in our steps yet none at all.
We must have stood on top of staircases never quite imagining where we could possibly end up. And here beyond the walls of structure, struggling with a routine long passed, we wait on broken benches.

We scuttled behind desks bigger then we were once used too, crammed into classrooms full of people more driven then the cars we owned. Names became familiar but faces were always distant and we floated between acceptance and isolation. Pressure built its way around downtime and sleep, while relaxation became a word better known as sanity.
We revelled in the sense of purpose, of belonging. The lights were dim but the road was long and we never thought it would end.
We started listing student as our job when asked, and though at first we didn't tire of its explanation eventually our degree became something entirely different- because no one seemed to understand. Or the endless comments were always just the same.
We took pride in our inside know how and found comfort in the idea that life was just beyond that expensive little paper.

Or at least we could believe.

Life in the blink of a shuttered eye, sheltered by purpose, reaching always forward but never quite grasping the moment. Which at a moments notice
Is already gone.

Her Loving

Her loving is unlike anything I’ve felt before. 

Its an undeniable pleasure, an indescribable craving. 

Her loving is the perfect contrast;
Her soft lips pressed firm against mine, rough and passionate, tender and yet so lustfully egar. Every nerve on end, 
my hand tangled in her hair desperately trying to bring her closer.
 
Her loving is like a song;
Her melody plays in my ear, the most beautiful harmony, a fusion of tapered breathing and sounds only my body knows how to respond too.
A song I don’t quite know the words to but I would listen all night long just to get it right. 


Her loving is intrinsic; 
She knows my body, she listens to it, she moves with it, her hands exploring and recording my movements. 
Every caress feels meant for me and I cannot get enough.


Her loving is essential;
Physically from her hand in mine too our bodies intertwined, the way we fit so perfectly side by side, the nudges and dancing our slow kiss and fast pace. 


Her loving is essential;
Mentally from our silly conversations to the overwhelming confrontations, the bubbly emotions and confused commotion of it all coming together at once. 


Her loving is beautiful