Breathe Me
Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
And needy
Warm me up
And breathe me
I am running again, for the second time today I am running away from something that I should not be. This time steady streams of tears are rolling down both of my cheeks, yet I do not think that anything will ever be able to ebb the flow. I have cut up my best friend and the image of her, naked and grieving upon her bed, will haunt me more than any visible scars of physical abuse. Now I have only one destination in mind, but I am turning in the wrong direction.
My feet come to a halt on the pavement. I double over and clutch at my heaving chest. I am in pain and I feel so weary. I do not know which way I am meant to run as I am caught between a rock and a hard place. At the end of the road before me is my boyfriend; Oliver Oken who is steady and kind. Our lives together in our relationship as boyfriend and girlfriend have been a natural step up from friendship. We have progressed slowly, chastely, but at the point when I am meant to plunge myself whole-heartedly into something more with him, I trip and find myself sinking in a pool of doubt.
Earlier this afternoon I turned to my one source of eternal comfort: into the arms of my female best friend. I went to her home seeking guidance and relief, words of wisdom, yet I submerged myself into something which I had never imagined could have happened. The moment that she joined me upon her bed, something inside of me had changed forever and, when I looked into her eyes, I realised that she had been waiting for that very moment for longer than I could ever know. What went on between us is insane. Yet, I would not alter it for the world.
I turn and look behind me, back in the direction of my beautiful brunette. I can feel my heart tug within my chest as the invisible thread, that holds Miley Stuart and me together, grows all the more taught with every moment that we spend apart. My chest is throbbing due to the pounding of my heart, almost painfully now, and I know that I can no longer avoid the dramatic change which my life is about to make. It has already shifted in the space of an hour and I cannot go back and erase what we have done.
I turn finally toward the street where Oliver lives and mutter, "I'm sorry."
x-x-x-x-x
I am on her porch once more and I gulp whilst I stand before her front door. Should I knock this time? The question rises up among all of the other misty thoughts which fog my mind, but I shake my head and pull down the handle. I slip inside quietly and with great relief I see that no one else is home. I walk briskly over toward the stairs and start to climb. It is the longest journey of my life and my head is spinning from the thoughts which plague my mind.
I stop halfway up my ascent and clutch the banister with sweating palms. I say a short prayer to any god that may be watching, asking them to take pity upon me and for Miley to forgive me for hurting her. I am ready now. I am ready for her and willing to call her my own.
I approach her bedroom door and push it open quietly. Her room is empty apart from her clothes which are still scattered across the floor from where I undressed her earlier. My throat is dry as I look upon the unmade bed; the evidence of our scandalous afternoon in one another's arms. The French-doors are still open, nothing has changed then. But where is she?
The noise of falling water suddenly catches my attention and I quietly tread the short distance to the door which separates her bedroom from her bathroom. She is in her shower, I have no doubt of this and only a single piece of wood, two inches thick, now separates me from Miley Stuart. My timing is appalling, yet I cannot be without her for another moment and so, I push open the door without any regrets.
The sound which greets me is a shriek of alarm as Miley realises that she is no longer alone, but this does not deter me and I walk bravely forward and dissolve the distance between us. She is desperately trying to cover her naked body with her arms and her eyes are wide, like a deer caught in the headlights of a car, but this does not matter. I pull open the screen door to her shower and step into the cascading water, engulfing myself in the steam to pull her into my needing arms.
She is sobbing and the sound of her cries causes my heart to splinter that I could be so cruel to my beloved. Tears merge with the water that has already gathered on my cheeks and I grit my teeth as the heat from the shower drenches my clothes, sinking through to dampen my skin. My hair is slicked down my back and my body is shaking as I cling to the brunette, loving her with every fibre of my being.
"Miley, I am so sorry." I finally manage to choke out and her entire body shudders.
"Lilly, please don't leave me." She whispers and moves to hold me even closer to her. I rarely ever see Miley looking so fragile and the way that she cowers into my being strengthens my resolve; she has endeared herself to me, etched her way almost into my very skin.
"I will not." I reply gruffly, my throat is taught with tears and I can barely speak. I only know to hold onto her body, to rub my hands up and down her back, warming her through to her very core. I will put together the pieces of Miley which I broke apart. I draw air deeply into my lungs, inhaling the smell of Miley's sodden hair, her naked skin, every essence of her I breathe.
I love her.