Inexact. Meandering. Those are the best and only words I can find to describe it. I think they fit nicely. There’s something beautiful and a little sad about it. Beautiful, because I search for the words in everything from music, to books, to languages— I’ve even tried to express it in my own words. All that I can seem to find are “Inexact” and “Meandering,” but it’s not so bad, really. And anyway, life is mostly about making choices and deciding how you want to end up. Why not? You should be here. I miss you and I can feel you missing me, too. Maybe you don’t even realize it, but I can feel it in my stomach. Come here because you can see me and I am so much to see. Come to my house, spend a night, a weekend, a week, whatever
Come here and we’ll crawl under the covers together and listen to each others’ breathing. I’ll take time with you, suppress my hunger so that I can feel you, feel what you want. So that I can know you and introduce you to the me that I am when small and afraid, when I am my truest self. Can you imagine anything making you happier?
I can’t.
All I want right now isn’t even sex, or even kissing. I could be twelve, I could be eighty. The feeling of your fingers tracing their way up my arm, along my neck, breaks me completely.
So, there I am: Yours. On the verge of telling you, “I love you,” when nothing has even happened. And God, I wish you were here.
I can feel you pulsing through my blood right now, can you believe it? Are you dreaming of me right now? Oh, I can hardly remember what you look like. How can you stand being away from me? Sometimes, I’ve felt like I’ve left pieces of myself with other people, but this is maybe the first time I’ve really felt like someone left a piece of themselves with me. I’ll do my best to keep it safe for you.
The idea of kissing you is almost more than I can take. My blood misses you.
