I slowly trace your skin with my fingers and silently let out a sigh of relief. You're fast asleep and don't know I'm quietly wishing this would never end. This night is no different than the others we've spent together over the last three months, but somehow my desire burns brighter and hotter on this cold September hour.
You know by now. I've made it quite clear, although you're always cautious with your words and don't give anything away. At times, I can feel it, but I long to hear it, for it doesn't seem real otherwise. Is that stupid? To wish to hear things you know they're there, but aren't quite sure of...?
As soon as the morning comes, the magic of this moment will be gone and we'll go back to our mundane, day-to-day issues, which I'm more than happy to do. As long as you leave the house and come back to me, it's okay...
Sometimes, I wish you didn't make me so happy. Happiness is so fleeting that I'm continuously scared of it. I enjoy it, but I can't help but wait for the turn of the wheel. I know, you said it: it won't make me any less unhappy if I keep waiting for it. But it's not that. I just don't think I deserve it.
The happiness, that is. The joy you bring me seems unreal, it makes my whole spirit go up in flames. And I burn, oh how I burn.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not sitting here waiting for this to end and the sadness to start. I'm also done with being cautious and guarded. I'm all in. All in. I just don't know if you are. And, like many other things I can't control, that is okay, too.
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