So I’m taking this prompt and writing a little romantic fiction. It’s something I haven’t done in a really long time.
You had chosen that moment to walk right into my life. I don’t know why you came when you did but I was just glad you did.
I felt like putty in your hands, my entire being was melting into something I hadn’t thought it possibly could.
I was living in the twenty first century, right? I was a smart, independent, intelligent woman. I had dreams and aspirations and ambition. I wouldn’t let just anybody walk over me.
But that was the problem. You weren’t just anybody. You were a storm. You came as if you belong, you came as if you owned me and I didn’t think I had a choice. If I’d felt I did, I wouldn’t have let you take over everything. There was a burning desire underneath the surface of my skin as I turned to face you in the still realization of that moment when it hit me: that this was the purest form of happiness there could ever be.
Underneath the layers guarding my body, there were sensations I would never have considered possible, moving rhythmically with the pounding of my heart. Like the beats of a musical symphony, my heart fluttered with irregular patterns.
There were only murky, lingering shadows beyond us; nothing else mattered. Never had other people and things ever mentioned so little because leaving my everything bare in front of you like that felt like an act of spirituality. And beyond that, there was a beast threatening to break free and if I let it, it would tear me into a billion pieces. But none of it would matter even then because if death could be exotic, this would be the only way to embrace it.
And that’s when I understood. If I could turn like this, if this was what I became around you, it only meant one thing. You were my full moon.