2007-07-28
giggle
I want to squeal with delight upon the intake of my senses, something sharp and vibrant, piercing me with life like the jubilant chill of an ice water drop slithering down my spine on a burning hot July day. I want to yelp with joy when you touch me, gleeful and light like floating. Your hands on me, the fringe of the tickle, the soft brush against the fresh green grass blades, the brilliant blue sky sparingly frosted with clouds to remind me which way up is. I'm not a giggler, but you're making me do it, and I usually only shiver if it's cold, but I'm feeling the icy tremble right now- it's my nerves confounded by such pleasure. Lend me your hands; I want to hear myself laugh like this without being able to control it, the sound of my own unconstrained joy, thoughtlessly responding to your touch in the only nature, pure way, my giggle.
leesah-likes at 10:09 p.m.