a new relationship - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
As the train rattles on, Marcus, talks of his bath the night before, bubbles and lavender. Lara gives him a playful nudge, "Sure you closed the blinds?"
He grins and sinks into the seat, "Ain't no hiding that, baby." Lara's face splits into a wide grin before casting her eyes out of the window briefly, then returning to his still smiling face. "Look at the fields," he says, "and the sheep hiding under the bridge."
Lara keeps looking right at him. "I can see them anytime. I want to look at your face while I can."
As their bodies hit the bare mattress Francis turns to Jen, eyes of flame, a wry grin on his face. "I knew I'd get you into bed one day." Jen feels the explosion within her, a burst of love. Then she knows, it was never just her yearning for him, but mutual. They lock eyes, her smile a mirror of his. Then he rolls a little closer, “We were born cheeky, you and me.” In that moment the rest of the people in the store become nothing at all, like they aren't there at all.
Lover, your words bring out the deep pain I have buried in my bones, drawing the poison of years into my blood. Your laughter and touch remove it, pulling it into my skin, allowing what was toxic to evaporate like morning dew. Should we be apart please halt your kind words, stop bringing out more than my blood can take, for then all I can do is bury it anew and wait for you to bring the medicine of your hands, of the connection of our souls.
I came to you like a hurricane, everything that once held me in place ripped away. I was raw, hurting and you were patient, caring, no matter what. The love you showed was a new thing to me, though I'd given it to others I'd never felt it poured over me like a salve. I'd been aware of my love for you since we were kids, but in those precious moments, in those times you picked me up and set me back in my feet, it magnified. Yet the love burns too hot, consumes me, and so I must quiet the flames, bring them to a warmth that can be sustained. The fuel of new romance should only be affection, caring, love - never the fear of being alone. So let me grow strong, let me loose that fear. Then we have a better foundation, a footing that can last.
Jason comes to me like ice for my whiskey, taking that keen edge off the hard liquor. He pulls me into a heady trance, letting the love flow through me quicker than fire in dry wood. Suddenly I'm swamped with a feeling I'd rather die than let go of, rather wither away than loose. His love is my valour, my virtue, the very best parts of me combined like naked copper wiring. Him and me, we were born to spark together, born to run the same course.
Tabitha eyed the new coffee table, it was old fashioned and mahogany, not one of those mass produced items with veneers over compressed fibre boards, but real wood right the way through. She shuddered at the thought of what it cost to make, not in money but in old growth forest, but there was no point in telling Karla off for buying it. It was antique and therefore more environmentally friendly to buy now than anything new. So instead she smiled and threw an arm around her girlfriend, "It's beautiful K, just like you."
Pia smirks as she sits, but not cruelly, she knows before she goes any further that they have lots in common. The coffee table is made from reclaimed wood, she can see the old nail holes in the deeply stained pine. Once that wood was a barn, a warehouse maybe, perhaps as far away as Vietnam. But wherever it's from it means the man she's started dating is greener than he's letting on. Or perhaps he never bought it, maybe it's a hand-me down. She purses her lips and speaks as if the information is of no importance. "Hey, Mike, I love the coffee table, was it a gift from someone?"
"Oh, what, that thing? No, I bought it in a sale, it matches the dining table, see?" Pia grins as she goes to see the dining table, looking about for more clues about her new love interest...
I've seen Tom a thousand times in his father's store, stacking shelves and greeting customers. He's always been a part of that place, blending in, less conspicuous than the covers of the magazines and rows of candy. But now he's all I see in there, the rest is a meaningless back-drop. I used to love the sugary aroma of the penny sweets, now all I want is to be close enough to for his musky scent to make my brains swim with a heady intoxication. He looks my way, almost able to keep the grin from his face. His father spies the exchange and makes a gruff excuse about having to check stock out the back. Then I pull my hand from behind my back to reveal the fresh bun I poached from my aunt's kitchen on the way over. There's no more hiding his grin, he leans in for a kiss and takes the bun, the shop bell pings to let us know we are no longer alone and he tells me "pickles are on the other side of the aisle." I grin, thank him kindly and buy the pickles...
I shake my head, wrapping my fingers around the warm mug. I know I want love, but I also want to stand on my own feet. I want a relationship where we are a "we" and two separate "I’s." Like sitting on a teeter totter. When you first get on, it’s a little scary, but you have to trust the other person won’t let you crash to the ground—that they won’t jump off. Together, we are balanced and count on and support each other. Sometimes, everything is just even—balanced. We’re both in the flow. When one of our lives is on a real high, the other holds them there, letting them ride the wave, appreciating them in all their glory—loving them unconditionally. And sometimes, together, we just enjoy the ride. The joy of just balancing life together. Adam let me crash to the ground and so did Daryl.
Tom is all quiet tonight, not like him at all, mister chatter himself. I'm used to the long tales, the rambling, the quick wit. I bite my inner lip for just a half second before sitting next to him, flicking my hair in the fading light of the evening. He speaks before I get the chance. "I love you." There's something in his candour that worries me, this isn't Tom. He isn't usually direct like this. "I love you, Cecile. I love you with everything that I am but I'm so scared that if you stay with me you'll die."
So this is it. It's his sense of chivalry that's holding him back. I don't know whether to hit him or hug him. "These are my choices, Tom. Isn't that what truly defines us? Not the darkness that wallows in the recesses of our minds but the things we do to better the world?" He looks away, I know his eyes are full of emotion he doesn't want to share.
"I can't protect you when you get out there, Cecile. I'll be helpless and I'm so afraid. I'd rather put myself in the firing line infinite times than have you there just once. You know what they'll do if they take you alive." His voice trails off. How could I have been so dumb to start a romance with everything going on. But was there really a choice? Without love how are we to go on fighting?
"Tom, I love you more every day, more than words can ever express. I would live infinite lifetimes by your side if I could. But this battle has my name on it, it's my destiny." Tom begins to nod slowly, shoulders beginning to shake. This isn't the future we thought we'd have, but if we want a beautiful world for our kids, our grandkids and all the generations after that we must head the battle call.
There is so much in Oliver's silence, so much he just won't say. I can see by his expression there's a lot going on in his head, but if I ask he just says he was thinking of how pretty I am. Got to give the boy credit, he's smoother than silk. He flashes the smile that's got me tied up tighter than a banker's money, but unlike a vault, isn't claustrophobic at all. I'm safe with him, even if he does keep secrets. Loving him doesn't give me right to know every pain and doubt, to rummage though the wreckage of his head. Some scars are invisible, I know he carries his share. I slip my hand into his and we wind through the park, just two lovers, happy, connected.
A new relationship was the last thing I needed, not right on the heels of Barker. But Jack wasn't taking "No" for an answer. When I wanted to cry he took me to the movies. When I wanted to shut the whole world out he came over to make me fresh pasta the way his "mama" made it. When I wanted to drink alone he arrived with a shot glass and chips. Every time I pushed back he gave me no resistance, but every time I fell he picked me up, no "thank-you's" required. I didn't want to rebound on Jack, he deserves something real, someone to adore him until the end of time, not some flake who doesn't know what shirt to wear in the morning 'cause her hangover's so damn bad.
"You don't know what his wife did to him; you don't know what my husband did to me. So why don't you take your judgements and stick them up your ass where they'll have the company of their peers."
Had Headly touched me months ago this fire would have been enough to burn brighter than any he'd ever known. With every passing day it grows stronger yet, and I wonder what will happen the day he lays his hand on my lower back and pulls me in tight. The thought alone consumes my mind, jolts my body with electricity. I want to taste him, feel the movement of his body, become one. It's still not time though, so we wait, caring for one another as our hidden inferno grows. Perhaps that is what others see when we look at one another, like that fire connects between us, igniting our smiles and laughter, changing our posture, inviting the most intimate of body language.