I draw your name on my skin and revel in the feeling of being yours. Even if I'm not truly yours, it feels like it.
So it has to mean something.
I glare down at the name scrawled on my wrist in blue ink, and wish it were different. Wish it was his, and not yours.
But I can't want that, because it's you, and I want you, more than I've ever wanted anyone. Even him.
I trace the lines with my finger, wondering how just your name can make me smile. You made it beautiful, your word. How can a word be beautiful?
But I try not to question it as I continue following the lines with my finger.
Am I beautiful now too? Because I've got your name on me, and damn is your name wonderful.
I used to think it was odd, but now it's you and I love it.
I love it.
I love it.
Right?
I press my thumb down hard on your name, feel my pulse just beneath it, and drag my thumb down, scowling.
How can you do this to me?
I resist the urge to scream as your once name, now a blue smudge, like a bruise, stings. It burns down, crawling under my skin and racing through my veins.
Before I can react, before I can claw you out, your name hits my heart, and stops it.
I love...
I try to breathe but I can't, it hurts too much.
"I love you." I gasp out, my heart instantly starting again, then skipping a beat when you look up at me from where you sat across from me.
I just...
"I-" No. Stop talking.
But you just smile, and nod your head. Again my heart stops, but this time you start it. By picking up your pen, pink, and grasp my hand, writing ticklishly on my palm.
You pull away and I look down, and my heart surges, double time.
I smile back at you, finally I'm yours.
I close my hand around your word, and I know it's made me beautiful.
Finally, I'm yours.
For the next few days I watch it fade, staring at your name and willing it to stay. But I calm myself when I remember you can always make me yours again. When you draw over again, with pink, on those fading letters.
CAT