He Doesn’t Give Me Fireworks Anymore

He gave me fireworks. Every time we touched, I could feel his bursts of warmth crackling against my skin, sparking my heart in a dazzling array of light and color, a cascade of deep reds and pure golds. When our lips met, our electricity was palpable, creating a stunning inferno against the starlit sky. When he held me, my heart raced thunderously in my ears as an unquellable storm of exhilaration encapsulated my entire being.

Every night with him was a show, a vibrant, passionate display. But when I met you, his sky grew dark and silent, and the curtain fell on my voltaic love for him.

You buzzed and popped under the heat of the lights, your electrifying magnetism drawing me into you until I could no longer resist your allure. My heart soared to unfathomable heights as you touched me, your hands caressing my waist as we collided in a mirage of color and sound. The booming bass penetrated us to our cores as he gradually faded from my mind, leaving my spirit bursting with undying exuberance.

I discovered you were softer and sweeter as I delved into you, relishing the gentle curves of your body resting against mine, the faint taste of honey strewn across your berry-tinted lips. I no longer missed the way his whiskers grazed my skin, the harsh cut of his muscles as he pulled me close to him, the throaty timbre of his voice. I dreamt that your pure, tender heart would set mine ablaze, instantaneously catapulting me to the heavens, leaving me wishing I would never return below.

Slowly, steadily, every time he flitted through my mind, wrapped his arms around me, and called me his, I felt numb, as if his dazzling array of magenta and chartreuse had spiraled back to Earth in a tumultuous freefall. The reality of you and I, the heart-pounding exhilaration, the extraordinary display of light and color, the fire burning through every iota of my being struck me as I realized the truth.

He doesn’t give me fireworks anymore. All I want is you — your touch, your kiss, your infectious energy.

Now, all that remains is us, standing under the vibrant night sky, watching a roaring neon spectacle brighten the stars. Our hearts race together as the world illuminates us, sparking a passionate frenzy of unmitigated emotion, competing against the thunderous boom of the brilliant display above. As I caress you, I finally learn to accept the hollow he left, the space in my heart you’ve filled with dazzling, thrilling color.

He doesn’t give me fireworks anymore. All I want is you. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

Lives for red lipstick, high heels, 80’s pop, cats, and Oxford commas.

Keep up with Kelly on Instagram, Twitter and thepsychedwriter.wordpress.com