The Rise of Whelm

My tastebuds linger of yours
The smell of your scent that always seems to stay the same
My hands in your hair, wrapped around the strands I braided for fun
16 months ago.

You had opened up the door before I had even reached it
shut it and you stepped out and you took two steps toward me
with a pained expression on your face
and for a second, I thought you were going to hit me.

But you sweeped me up without caution
and pulled me so close
your arms around my back, my legs around your hips
your hands moved under the back of my shirt
just to feel my skin.

Your hands moved to my head
feeling the tangles of my hair
to my face you felt my cheekbones
and I whelmed right up to the brim

 

 

and then it spilled over.