*Dreaming*
“Want to hear something funny?”
“What?”
“I think I’ve started liking you.”
You’re a walking, talking reason to live.
I swear, I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I said it either.
I am not used to guys making me blush, and I wasn’t sure why thoughts of him made me blush every time. (wind blows gently)
Some crushes just never go away. They build, instead, into something permanent and all consuming. I’m still not sure if all that happened, still happening is because I am crushing on you. (Birds chirp in the background)
My fling with him has a wonderful element of romance to it, which I will always cherish. It is not infatuation, and here’s how I can tell: because I did not demand that he become my great emancipator or my source of all life, nor did I immediately vanish into his chest cavity like a twisted, unrecognizable, parasitical homonculus. During this moment of “whatever we are”, I remained intact within my own personality, and I let myself meet him for who he is. (wind stops blowing, birds still chirping)
I think about his mouth. Those lips, they look like they belong to some god (lol). Perfect and able to do things one you’d never think was possible to your skin. His teeth, perfect smile… they make my insides flutter. (Some song starts playing)
His hair is so full and thick. Running my hands through it whilst giving his forehead a kiss is always something I look forward to doing. (I hear his laugh now)
I want to touch with my mouth again. His mouth, with my mouth. Maybe his neck too. But first things first: I have to make him aware I exist. It’s possible that he is already aware. (He stares into my eyes and says “I can see ‘you’”, but I don’t hear him)
I’m hoping he’ll be genuine because I can already tell he isn’t the kind of guy a guy gets a simple crush on. He’s the kind of guy you fall hard for, and the thought of that terrifies me. I don’t really want to fall hard for anyone at all, especially someone who’s probably making an effort because he thinks I’m easy? I also don’t want to fall for someone who has already branded himself hopeless. But I’m curious. So curious. (He smirks. The devil smirks)
I’m not going to make a big deal about a few tummy flutters because…dead people, old people, even furniture would get butterflies if they met this guy. (The wind resumes blowing, he’s still smirking)
My heart has been touched by him, battered by him, cradled by him as the days last few days passed. He was cruel without meaning to be yet he was kind, and I needed him too much to let myself want him. I needed him to see what is happening to me. I did not want to overshadow his need for solitude with the angry waves of fear I was experiencing. I did not want him to see the that I needed him to be there for me, because he needed himself more. (There’s a pause. Where? I have no idea)
I look at the cheap Christmas gift I got him every night and think, “Nah. He doesn’t need this”. (He wouldn’t. Maybe I should give it out)
Sometimes, when he was not near me, I think, I will never let him ‘touch’ me again. Then, when he ‘touched’ me, I think, it doesn’t matter, it is only the body, it will soon be over. When it was over, I’d be in the dark, I’d listen to him breathe while is hand makes me one with his body and I’d agree again, that his hands have the power to crush me and make me whole again.
(He smirks and gives a knowing nod. The wind stops blowing and the chirping fades off)
*wakes up from dream*
