This post is inspired by Guillotine by Jon Bellion. Of course, for my first post in this series I had to do one by my favorite artist. I’ve been listening to Jon for a few years now and his lyrics, as well as his musicality, always inspire me to create. Check out “Guillotine” using the link below.
Or listen right now!
Her head rises and falls with the motion of my chest as I breath slowly and deeply. Our bodies are tangled in the crisp white sheets on the bed.
I stare at her skin, soft and smooth, before I brush her hair from her face and try to pull my body out from under hers without waking her. I am unsuccessful and she inhales as her eyes open, blue and clear to look straight up at me.
She leans over and plants a gentle kiss on my nose.
“Good morning, handsome,” she says, her voice croaky like all the mornings before.
“Good Morning,” I say, rolling over on the bed. Her bare arms are out of the covers now and she lays on her side to face me.”I’ll go make some coffee.”
I kiss her lips, slip out of bed and head to the kitchen. Not long after, I feel her arms wrap around my midsection as the coffeemaker comes to life.
She pulls open the refrigerator door to reveal its contents. Looking to me she says, “What should we make? Waffles? Eggs and toast?”
I immediately reply “waffles” and she begins piling ingredients onto the countertop.
The coffee finishes up and I pour it out into two cups. I carry one over to her as she begins pouring the wet mixture into the waffle maker.
In one swift motion I swipe my index finger into the bowl and then touch it to her nose leaving behind a big glob of waffle batter.
“You did not!” she yells, a smile spreading across her face.
“I did too,” I say. “And I love you.”
Her initial smile grows wider and she begins moving towards me.
“I love you too,” she says and wipes the batter from her nose to the side of my face.
She jumps away quickly and bounds across the kitchen laughing hysterically now.
I try to catch her but we end up just running in circles. Finally she gives up and lets me grab her. I pull her in at the waist and lift her into the air and then back down again.
Our waffles end up getting burned but we eat them anyway, sipping on coffee and talking the whole time.
It’s late. The sun has already set and the sky had gone black. All the lights are off in the apartment when I push open the front door. I try to be quiet as I shut and lock it behind me, but I am not quiet enough.
I hear footsteps coming towards me and then a light flickers on in the kitchen. She stands with her hands on her hips, a stone look on her face. Her t-shirt hangs well below her thighs and her feet are bare.
“Hey babe, sorry I’m late,” I say.
“I don’t want to hear that you’re sorry. I just want you to stop doing this,” she answers.
She moves closer to me and her eyes begin to well up with tears. I hate seeing her cry and knowing that I cause her tears most of the time just kills me inside. Its the reason I do this all the time.
“You reek of alcohol. Have you been at the bar again?”
“Babe, I just needed a little time to think. It’s been crazy at work and I’ve been feeling anxious all week I-”
“Again! How many times have I asked you to stop going to drink when you feel that way?! We can talk to your doctor, adjust your meds maybe,” she says, cutting me off.
She storms off back to the bedroom but before she closes the door, she tosses out my pillow and the blanket we keep at the end of the bed.
Instead of going to the bar tonight, I head right home. My mind is racing with a million different things and it seems like no matter what is going on, the voices in my head are louder than any sound around me.
I push open the front door and immediately see her standing at the kitchen sink. Her eyes light up and she dries her hands. I move across the room to her, the distress visible on my face and in my body language.
She pulls me in and hugs me tight. I let my head fall to her shoulder and the tears begin streaming from my eyes.
“I’m going crazy,” I say, “I don’t know how to make it all stop.”
“Shhh…” she whispers. “We can get through this together. I love you. Even when you lose your head, I still love you.”
I wake in the middle of the night with sweat dripping from my forehead and my palms clammy.
She is already awake.
“You’ve been tossing and turning for hours now, are you ok?” she asks.
“I had an awful nightmare,” I say and nothing more.
She doesn’t say anything at first, but instead takes my face in her hands.
She looks me deeply in the eyes and finally says, “I still love you.”
I pull her face to meet mine and kiss her softly and gently. We stay like that, just wrapped in each others arms for a long while.
Eventually, we both fall asleep and only wake when the sun begins to dance across the curtains.