you'll breathe easier just knowing that the worst is all behind you
& the waves that tossed the raft all night have set you on dry land
& the waves that tossed the raft all night have set you on dry land
She's so fucking patient with you, in a way El never was. And yeah, you shouldn't be comparing, but right in this moment you're fucking grateful for the woman you have. You try to show it in the squeeze upon her knee before your hand makes its retreat. "Same," you agree, eyes closed right as relief twinges with guilt at the difficult confession. Too much is different.
Too much is the same.
You scoff when Vai says you're good with kids, cheeks rugged red with secret pleasure, something you doubt anyone else could catch onto - but her? She knows you. "Felix's hardly a kid," you point out quietly, "An'th' urchins- they ain't mine." Oh, sure, they are in a grandiose and abstract way, but she knows what you mean.
Does she know what you're driving at, though? You scarcely do yourself - the idea's been there at the periphery of your thoughts for a while, sure, you've refused to look at it, let alone say it out loud. But now as you sit under the stars next to a woman who you trust with your heart, sipping a mai tai and waiting for shrimp, you figure, fuck it, why not let it out.
You take a long gulp of your drink. Then you set it down. Stare at the glass. Try not to clench it too tightly. Inhale.
"I think... I'd want it, 'gain. A kid who's mine." And now you turn to Vai with no expectation, just boyish innocence and love and vulnerability. "Ours."
Too much is the same.
You scoff when Vai says you're good with kids, cheeks rugged red with secret pleasure, something you doubt anyone else could catch onto - but her? She knows you. "Felix's hardly a kid," you point out quietly, "An'th' urchins- they ain't mine." Oh, sure, they are in a grandiose and abstract way, but she knows what you mean.
Does she know what you're driving at, though? You scarcely do yourself - the idea's been there at the periphery of your thoughts for a while, sure, you've refused to look at it, let alone say it out loud. But now as you sit under the stars next to a woman who you trust with your heart, sipping a mai tai and waiting for shrimp, you figure, fuck it, why not let it out.
You take a long gulp of your drink. Then you set it down. Stare at the glass. Try not to clench it too tightly. Inhale.
"I think... I'd want it, 'gain. A kid who's mine." And now you turn to Vai with no expectation, just boyish innocence and love and vulnerability. "Ours."
zeph
