Do you remember when you pressed yourself against me and we stumbled and slammed into the wall but it didn’t fall down like my heart had that time when I was urgent and forgetting to be still.

You had your hands clenched in mine, pinned to the white scratched wall and I’m sure I felt the floor tremble but it was probably just my silly heart again.

It rumbles and it shakes.

It takes the tiny pieces and makes them into things that don’t matter and then it erupts in the smallest way; spewing the deepness and emotion and the best of intentions all over us.

I get lost in a sea of feelings and it’s difficult to float above; the intoxicating molten of me and you and every little thing that crawls under my skin tries to save me.

It’s almost useless.

So I try to drift away.

I lay on my back now, thinking about that time behind that door and I’m watching the rusted door handle and waiting for it to turn but it never does. Not by your hand.

My heart rumbles and shakes again and I still myself into this exact moment and hope that the cracks don’t appear through the centre of me; above my lust and below my conscience.

This is like Magma.

It is found beneath the earth of me and threatens to both intrude and extrude and sometimes I wish it would just erupt into a massive overflow and wash itself away entirely.

The constant diverging or converging contains the things which both join together and pull apart.

I have considered diving from the edge of this volcano; one magnificent leap down into the core of it.

Instead, I remain here watching from a safe distance; admiring the complete possibility and absolute beauty of the one thing called desire.

Go on. Erupt. I dare you to.

© ryan