Pools of honey, I stood staring into your eyes, holding your cheeks softly. "Do you think I'm ugly?" I remembered the first time I saw you. I thought to myself, "Why are you so afraid of him? He's not even that cute!" I wrote about it and called you ugly. You held a mirror and I didn't like myself then. I was coming to terms with sexual, physical, and emotional abuse with zero support and no knowledge of how to proceed. I thought you were untouchable. Someone I couldn't comprehend. Far beyond my scope. So I looked away and pretended you didn't exist at all. "You are perfect." You pulled your face back, but your eyes had turned to black. You kept your eyes on me until my hands were holding onto the air between us. Your palm found the back of my hand and gently gestured it away.
I pursued you. I needed to feel you. I couldn't stand looking at you and not brushing my fingers against your skin. Like silk and velvet. I imagined you laying next to me a thousand times before and seeing you in front of me, I couldn't stop myself from wanting to take all of your clothes off. I needed to feel your warm chest on my bare back. "I sure do, miss you." The caption on the drawing I made in printmaking. Two bodies, laying down, the woman, me, was solid. The man, a dotted line. Taller, but strikingly similar. As I had always pictured we would be someday. If only, I knew who you were. My heart ached. I cried that day. I sat looking out the window in the classroom, the fumes of sticky ink heavy in my nose. The friend I carpooled with asked me if I had broken up with my boyfriend. I said, "No, but I feel like I should." I didn't understand how I could miss a stranger. Someone I had no idea existed outside of my dreams. A man that I longed for more than I had ever known. I had a boyfriend. I loved him very much. I hope he is happy now, he seems to be, in some ways. I loved someone else. Deep in my soul, I knew the man I loved wasn't my boyfriend. It was a stranger. I didn't know who he was or if we had met yet. I spent the day, staring into the gentle blue rain that comes with spring, feeling cold to my bones. Missing someone I had not yet known. Someone who may not exist. But, I felt him deep in my mind. I could almost smell his skin in the sunlight, warm and bright. Sweet lime, warm linen, and the most subtle, but deep, campfire scent. Bitter, sweet, comforting, but abrasive, burnt, but new. The smell that brought on nostalgia in a far off memory after a heavy summer storm. Something foreign and yet, indescribably like home. Everyone else, notably, smells like cedarwood, now. Sometimes, the bitter cedarwood oil that lingers like a papercut, stinging my nostrils. The kind that I smell deeply and curl my lips into a snarl from. Sometimes, it's cedar wood. The smell of an old box from my childhood. When I would shop in the small town of Alex Bay, wishing I had a warm red box to put my trinkets in, to turn all my treasures into the musky scent that lingered. The puzzle boxes were my favorite. The boxes that needed several tries before you understood how to get them apart. The cedar that made me question simplicity. When I smell a hint of smoke, lingering from a fire long burnt out, I can't help but feel elated. I smile and a shiver will go through my body, like your fingers brushing the back of my spine.
Our kissing was intense, but gentle. I smiled, feeling your soft lips on mine, your hands on my hips. I found the edge of your pants and again, you pulled away from me. I pulled you by your belt closer to my body. You didn't resist. You just looked into my eyes, that look that you knew I was bad and you didn't care. The one where you wanted to take me, but you needed me to want you badly. The edge of your lip twitched, unsure whether you wanted to give up your poker face. I unbuckled your belt, unbuttoned your button, unzipped your pants. I reached into your boxer briefs and you made that gasping sound that sent shivers up my spine. You closed your eyes wanting more, turning your head to the ceiling before frowning, "Do you think it's bad?" I was stunned. I stared into your face and you pulled away. You wanted an answer faster than you needed anything else from me. I thought about how much I wanted you, needed you. I could feel your desire shooting in my veins, burning hot and deep red. I felt your member softly with my fingers, reaching around you before sighing,"You are perfect." I said it before realizing I was still holding onto the bottom half of your body. The top half had turned and walked away, taking my heart with you. Time and time again, I must return to the real world. Pretending that I don't feel deeply in the dreams I have about you. Whoever you are...
I pursued you. I needed to feel you. I couldn't stand looking at you and not brushing my fingers against your skin. Like silk and velvet. I imagined you laying next to me a thousand times before and seeing you in front of me, I couldn't stop myself from wanting to take all of your clothes off. I needed to feel your warm chest on my bare back. "I sure do, miss you." The caption on the drawing I made in printmaking. Two bodies, laying down, the woman, me, was solid. The man, a dotted line. Taller, but strikingly similar. As I had always pictured we would be someday. If only, I knew who you were. My heart ached. I cried that day. I sat looking out the window in the classroom, the fumes of sticky ink heavy in my nose. The friend I carpooled with asked me if I had broken up with my boyfriend. I said, "No, but I feel like I should." I didn't understand how I could miss a stranger. Someone I had no idea existed outside of my dreams. A man that I longed for more than I had ever known. I had a boyfriend. I loved him very much. I hope he is happy now, he seems to be, in some ways. I loved someone else. Deep in my soul, I knew the man I loved wasn't my boyfriend. It was a stranger. I didn't know who he was or if we had met yet. I spent the day, staring into the gentle blue rain that comes with spring, feeling cold to my bones. Missing someone I had not yet known. Someone who may not exist. But, I felt him deep in my mind. I could almost smell his skin in the sunlight, warm and bright. Sweet lime, warm linen, and the most subtle, but deep, campfire scent. Bitter, sweet, comforting, but abrasive, burnt, but new. The smell that brought on nostalgia in a far off memory after a heavy summer storm. Something foreign and yet, indescribably like home. Everyone else, notably, smells like cedarwood, now. Sometimes, the bitter cedarwood oil that lingers like a papercut, stinging my nostrils. The kind that I smell deeply and curl my lips into a snarl from. Sometimes, it's cedar wood. The smell of an old box from my childhood. When I would shop in the small town of Alex Bay, wishing I had a warm red box to put my trinkets in, to turn all my treasures into the musky scent that lingered. The puzzle boxes were my favorite. The boxes that needed several tries before you understood how to get them apart. The cedar that made me question simplicity. When I smell a hint of smoke, lingering from a fire long burnt out, I can't help but feel elated. I smile and a shiver will go through my body, like your fingers brushing the back of my spine.
Our kissing was intense, but gentle. I smiled, feeling your soft lips on mine, your hands on my hips. I found the edge of your pants and again, you pulled away from me. I pulled you by your belt closer to my body. You didn't resist. You just looked into my eyes, that look that you knew I was bad and you didn't care. The one where you wanted to take me, but you needed me to want you badly. The edge of your lip twitched, unsure whether you wanted to give up your poker face. I unbuckled your belt, unbuttoned your button, unzipped your pants. I reached into your boxer briefs and you made that gasping sound that sent shivers up my spine. You closed your eyes wanting more, turning your head to the ceiling before frowning, "Do you think it's bad?" I was stunned. I stared into your face and you pulled away. You wanted an answer faster than you needed anything else from me. I thought about how much I wanted you, needed you. I could feel your desire shooting in my veins, burning hot and deep red. I felt your member softly with my fingers, reaching around you before sighing,"You are perfect." I said it before realizing I was still holding onto the bottom half of your body. The top half had turned and walked away, taking my heart with you. Time and time again, I must return to the real world. Pretending that I don't feel deeply in the dreams I have about you. Whoever you are...
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