STANDARD DISCLAIMER APPLIED.
love is:
by: pixie paramount (3/24/2008, 2:15 AM)
Kingdom Hearts, Kairi/Axel & love is
Love is supposed to feel like the stars in heaven staring down at you, look to fate and ask, Will this last? And fate will look down to the two of you, so happy and in love, and say that, It will, for as long as time lasts.
That is what love is supposed to feel. Like you are destined, connected, wrapped in a red, red string and duck-tape—forever bound.
It's how it's supposed to be; it's what Disney and the Grimm brother's said. Long, long ago.
But that isn't the case.
As he kisses you in the city, you hearts flutters hard and fast in you chest, beating against your rib cage.
The rhythm of the music pulsates in your veins, fueling the chemistry between you—it's fiery. Your bodies press and your lips clash; your hair is a mess and your make-up running and everything is topsy-turvy as the music winds down.
Until it's just you and him; everything else doesn't matter, so long as it's just the two of you, together.
You stumble out of the club hand-in-hand together; your veins warm with too much booze. He's lighting a cigarette by the crosswalk, his fingers tight and warm—ridiculously so—as opposed to the blistering cold.
Too many scarves wrapped around his neck, his rings digging into your flesh—so, so lightly—and his hair pulled back. You want to rip the scarves from him and crush that cigarette, because you want to kiss him silly against the stoplight and you hate the taste that clings to him afterwards.
His eyes are hooded, smoldering. Green firecrackers, a poet in a coffee shop used to say. You love the way he looks at you—like you are the most beautiful thing in the world. So precious and his.
That, maybe, this is fate: you and him. Like Beauty and her Beast, Juliet and her Romeo, and so many others in this world, so dunk on love.
Maybe we are soul mates, you and I; may be this will last for one more night; maybe this will last.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
I love you.