Five

I gave in and let you give me directions to the next place.

I drove.

You listened.

Gave directions when necessary. 

But when we turned on the dirt road.

Ignored signs telling us to stop.

Ignored signs telling us the road was closed. To go home.

When we went until we couldn't go any longer. We stopped.

Unsure of what to do next.

So you spoke up. Showed me another way.

And when I pulled over and turned the car off you were silent. Unyielding. So I yanked my keys out of the ignition, shoved a sweatshirt over my head, and climbed towards the abandoned bridge.

There's beauty in abandonment, but we can't see it in ourselves.

I laid there right in the middle of the rusty dirty old bridge and looked at the real stars. The ones that burn out. Disappear.

Somewhere in the night I heard a car door close, but no footsteps approached me so I stayed there in my pretty white dress on the grimy bridge. And when I had had enough I stood up. Your figure loomed on the edge of the other bridge.

Too close.

All of the sudden I couldn't breathe.

I did this. I did this. I did this.

My desperate voice called out to you to come back, to come here, to step away.

Instead you sat down and inched closer to the edge.

I turned to go up there but fears that I wouldn't make it in time drove me to the side of my bridge. I climbed the wires and sat on the edge. My feet swinging in empty air.

My heart pounded and my breath came in fast short gaps. I bet you never knew that I'm afraid of heights. Years of family vacations of me hanging back while they gather on the edge. But here I was on the edge. 

You got down. 

Came over.

And I wanted to come down but I couldn't. I was stuck. Frozen.

I wanted to get down by myself, I didn't want to need your help, but I did.

And as always you silently understood what I needed without me speaking.

You carefully scooped me up as if I weighed nothing and put me down. You caught me in a tight hug and backed me slowly away from the edge. 

Even though I was far away from the edge I still couldn't breathe and my heart still pounded against my ribcage forcefully. Maybe it wasn't just the edge.  

Your lips searched in the dark and mine turned away because I didn't want to feel the pain in their leave.

But eventually I gave in. 

I always give into you eventually.

And once I started I couldn't stop.

I was starving and couldn't be filled until my lips covered and tasted most of you. I didn't know how to pace myself, go slow, because suddenly I had been given what I longed for for so long. Moderation does not exist when it comes to you.

Somewhere in the in between I told you I missed you and asked if you missed me.

And under the caress of my lips your reply was soft and quiet as you trailed  your fingers through my hair and brought me closer, "yes."

Five.