My Waist Seems Thinner

When your arms are around me I feel somehow beautiful. I never really feel beautiful unless I am spinning. So I suppose it is fitting that when your hands grasp the sides of my waist, right in between my hips and my ribcage, that I feel free because it makes my heart spin.

We speed by the wind on the quad and follow the full moon. My hair billowing back, left behind with my shout of jubilee. The air is cold, but I am warm, clasped against the night. We cascade over long grass, and zip around trees. There is nothing as exhilarating as turning with the quad.

Somehow you make me feel pretty, without haughty. You make me smile, without motivation. You make me laugh, without sarcasm. You make me feel, without letting me judge myself. Each second slips through as I struggle to find the words to describe this feeling of flawless imperfection. Somehow everything is just right. The wild calmness, and the voiceless verbosity of the situation captures the part of my mind that wishes to never be tied down. I find that I am not tethered to you, but that I am the one holding on.