you & me

This Is Why You Are Magic.

 

Look, I really just want to tell you how fucking brilliant I think you are when your mouth is moving frantically and you can barely keep up with the sonic-speed word magic gurgling out of your gorgeous mouth.

You are magic and it is you.

It’s in the flick of your wrists when you’re getting ready to flail your arms in submission. This is registered as bravery in my eyes rather than defeat.

It’s the sweet, soggy intervals that you speak in. They stick to my heart, they live on my lungs, and I am grateful to get to inhale them indefinitely.

It’s in the fleshy miracle of your belly as your heave up that uncontrollably delicate laughter.

It’s in the way the streaky sunlight slinks across your shoulders, teasing your neck and invading your back muscles. I envy the sun for getting to lounge all over your skin; it devours you whole while I settle for pieces of you.

It’s in the way your skin shimmers as if you’ve been up all night, dancing with the moonlight.

And I will love you for all of this and in spite of this. I will love you incandescently, in slight darkness, in the bright white of day, and in any other shade.

I will love you like a sunset. I will hug you with my whole body. I will think in simple yet heroic gestures that leave you forever lathered in the afterglow of my love.

I just want to tell you how sometimes I don’t understand the lightness of you. Your airy wisdom and your rosewater smile. The thick weight of your love never suffocates, never burdens. I know that it is both serious and soft. Diligent but flexible. A conundrum, just like all the best things in this world.

And I want to make sure you know that even though my body is jagged and armed with so many nerves and anxieties, I will always steady myself for you.

If at any point you can’t love every square inch of that porcelain skin you’ve got covering your body, I will love it all for you.

If you can’t marvel at yourself in the cold and dusty air of morning light, I will marvel for you.

When your bones grow tired, achy and far too weighty, I will always lift them with my superhuman strength that only surfaces when you are in need.

I will be unfailing. I will be true blue. I will be the pure, liquid gold that you can consume anytime you need it. Every nervous secret, every secret prayer, every wish left unanswered. I will keep it all safely sucked away inside the deepest parts of me.

I will remind you constantly of the fact that people are good. Not always, and not in the ways we like. Not good like us, but good. And messy. And worried, always worried.

When you are having trouble remembering, I will remind you of your own fierce wisdom. Of your fragile energy that bounces from room to room.

I will remind you how you were born of meteors and starlight sent dancing across the night sky. You were unraveled in the sunlight, bathed in the sunrise.

And I will remind you that if the sky is blue because it is sad, then you are the airy white clouds of hope that form and swirl. And sometimes those wisps of little white clouds actually fill the whole damn sky, reminding you that we will all be okay. We will all be okay.

Your hands

my heart

our love.

All I am ever trying to say to you

is that I will love you through everything

and all that comes in between.

***

{Join us on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram & Pinterest}

 

Comments

Julie Faulkner

Julie Faulkner

Julie Faulkner is raw, unfiltered kindness. She is a soft culmination of mermaid hair, dark eyes, floral dresses, and a lack of hand-eye coordination. She prefers hugs to handshakes, and she makes the best sad song playlists. She loves breakfast food all day, and will always prefer pancakes at dingy diners to five-star fanciness. She believes that there is nothing more attractive than good conversation, vulnerability, and bright-eyed wonder (and boys with really good teeth, don’t judge). She also probably loves you already. Connect with her via Facebook or purchase her book via Amazon.
Julie Faulkner

Latest posts by Julie Faulkner (see all)

Julie Faulkner