I don’t know what she wants to tell me. Tonight, we parked around the block from my house in front of a convenience store. Still and stunning in her laid back style she reminded of the time when me she cried and said she’d miss me. Last week she said bluntly that she wouldn’t fuck me. Because if we did it, she would think about me while abroad. She’d fall in love with me. And we don’t want that, do we?

I’ve barely escaped from her sight, turned into a crying mess. I’ve held my breath until I go blue as she caresses me only to have her withdraw at the critical moment. I’ve kissed her tears away and slept innocently by her side three times.

She is shy and daring at once. Just when I had given up on her she pursued me. I am her postcard. A rain check. She wants to save me for later. And all I want to know right now is what I feel for her.

i guess it's the proper way

to go on to loving

begin with nothing

I want to cherish her weakness. I want to be with her: naked & reckless. Lost to our bodies, simultaneously. I want to hold her as she comes, to make her wait, to kiss her as she languishes under my body. I want to let her know that it’s not kind to drown in desire in exchange for the pleasures that catholic guilt brings.