shut up, Dork. i love you. | Teen Ink

shut up, Dork. i love you.

March 23, 2010
By aanni SILVER, White Oak, Texas
aanni SILVER, White Oak, Texas
7 articles 8 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
If you see someone without a smile, give them yours.


I'm holding you in my arms. Your head is resting gently on my chest, your beautiful, soft dark hair is sprawled over me, and your long legs are tangled with mine. I love this moment. Even more than the past hour. This is what I'll remember most, holding your delicate, naked frame against me. I lean down to kiss your forehead lightly, and I feel you stir.

'I didn't mean to wake you, baby.' I whisper softly.

I feel you smirk more than I see it, your cheek twitching against my chest. I can picture your lips curved in that endearing half-smile of yours. Your soft, full lips mocking me in their silent way. But when you tilt your head back to look at me directly, I realize that my mind was blind, and didn't picture you clearly. This is beauty. You, in the flesh, right here with me. Not some stupid memory or tainted imagination.

My brain is an idiot.

I gaze into those eyes of yours. Those shocking, magnetic blue eyes. They stop in my tracks every time. All thought lost. All movement halted as I fall deep into your eyes. They are so full of knowledge, childlike curiosity, and compassion. If anyone were to every bring sorrow into those depthless, impossible blue eyes...

'Are you okay? You seem tense.' Oh, your voice. I forgot your voice. How could I forget your voice? It melts me. Everything innocent and everything naughty, your voice holds the truths of the world and the secrets of its soul. It electrifies me; sends shivers throughout my body. I blush as I remember the last time I heard your voice. You were whispering my name huskily, faintly in my ear as our bodies were entwined, moving together as one entity.

'I'm fine, love.'

'You're blushing, you know.' Your words only make my cheeks redder. Oh, the things you do to me.

'Am I?'

'Why are you blushing?'

'I'm remembering.' I guess that got you remembering too because you blushed and laid your head back down, your reddened cheek resting against my chest.

So. Cute.

We lay there a while, both thinking our silent thoughts. But, oh love, what is it you are thinking? I can't bear it. I wish I knew. Am I in your thoughts? Am I lurking behind those eyes of yours?

'What are you thinking about?' you ask softly. Why couldn't I have asked that? You're so blunt, not afraid to ask anything you wish to know. You yearn for knowledge, for understanding. I only hope I can make you understand the thoughts in my mind.

'I think I lied.'

'What?' Okay, that's not working. Oh baby, how can I make you understand?

'I think I've lied. To myself, to you, to everyone.'

'About what?' You move your body, your legs unwinding from around mine, your head lifting from my chest. I cling to you desperately, not wanting the warmth of you away from me even for a moment. But my resistance is unnoticed, and you rest your head in your hand, your elbow propped up on the pillow to support you. I fall into your gaze as you look at me imploringly, your hair falling down, around your neck, and over your shoulder, hiding your right breast perfectly.

'I was stupid. I lied when I preached about the beliefs in which I thought I had so strongly believed in.'

'Beliefs?' I'm not making any sense to you, am I?

'About being an atheist of sorts.' You seem dumbfounded. But there's a crack in your shock. I can see it slowly begin to falter as your lips twitch. In one swift motion, you're head is back and you're laughing. Wait… laughing?

This is funny, apparently.

'I'm serious, baby. Why are you laughing?'

'I am here,' you manage to get out through a fit of giggles, 'I am here, naked and in your bed. We're inches apart and we have just made love. And you were thinking about religion?' You laugh harder as you say it aloud.

'Listen.' The seriousness in my voice stopping the giggles immediately, bringing your eyes back to mine.

'So you lied about being an atheist. Big deal. What does that have to do with us?'

'It has everything to do with us. With you.'

'Oh, I can't wait to hear this one.'

'Be serious, love. Listen.' I look deep into those eyes, wishing for you to listen. You must see something in the eyes that hold your gaze so pleasingly, for you slacken, resting once again in my arms.

'I'm listening.'

'I said I didn't believe that there was anyone greater than us. That there once was, but they're gone now. They're not here anymore.'

'Yes?'

'Well, I lied. Because there is someone greater than me. There is someone I worship. There is someone I pray to. There is someone I praise. There is someone.'

'Who?' Your voice faint, I think I hear understanding. But, baby, how could understand? How could ever understand the way I feel about you, the way you make me feel, and how much I can't live without you?

'You. I believe in you, baby.'

Silence.

'You're greater than me, greater than this world. You're a higher being, baby. I worship the ground you walk on. I praise every word you say, every action you commit, and every thing you touch. You're my goddess, baby. I can't live without you, I can't live with you. You're better than I can ever hope to be. I pray to you selfishly. I pray that you'll never leave. I pray that I'll always see those eyes filled with such love for the world. I pray that I'll see your smile. I pray that I'm the one sculpting your lips into that smile. I pray that you'll always be here. I pray that one day I'll be half as good as the man who truly deserves you. Baby... you're my world, my moon, my stars, my sun, my existence. I'm a martyr to your love. You're my religion.' I chuckle lightly, another thought swimming to the surface that is my mind. 'Forgive me, lover, for I have sinned.'

'Shut up, Dork, I love you.'

'Heh… baby? I love you, I need you, and I can't stand to be without you. And by love, I mean I adore you, I cherish you, and I simply can't get enough of you.'

The author's comments:
I wrote this,
knowing that it wasn't you saying those words.
But me.
That's why they call it fiction.
And I pray to you,
selfishly,
that one day you'll make this fairy tale
a story of pure truth.

Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 0 comments.