Falling into Holly is easy.
Not effortless, like breathing.
Easy.
Like the flow of a river in the middle of summer, lazy and quiet in some areas, rushing and demanding in others. Every time Gail lets herself be lulled by the deep rich scent of coffee and something earthy that Gail is unable to properly define, Holly draws her in with a pull as undeniable as the surf.
And god help her, Gail surrenders. She gives herself over to the lush curves of Holly's body, the tender flush of heat beneath her touch, and the barely audible sigh that floats over Gail to raise bumps along the shivering canvas of her skin.
And every time she starts to believe, starts to trust that the surface beneath her is solid, the world around her shifts like sand. She's left with a void that is stark and empty, haunted with the soft echoes of what should be. When she struggles to recover the ground between them, the chasm grows, stretching to an impossibly wide distance that makes her weep with the finality of it.
Letting go of Holly is hard.
Not impossible, like stopping the rays of the sun.
Hard.
Like the sharp, styled edge of a diamond cut so precisely it could never belong anywhere other than a showcase display at the store. No matter how many times she passes it, pictures it reflecting the light in Holly's eyes, and dreams of the future it represents, she knows it'll never be more than the elaborate fantasy of the hope-filled lover she used to be.
Falling is easy.
If only she could figure out how to land without shattering herself.