Im straddling you and tearing up inside. My kisses are solemn and shaking. I tell you I'm nervous It's been awhile. You moan with delight as my jeans grind against yours. I'm doubting the authenticity of this exercise but you seem to like it so I continue.
My eyes water like someone chopping onions yours are closed rolled back into their sockets. I tense, waiting for you to notice salty tears streaming down my face but nothing is said and we just continue.
I come up with a couple explanations for my back pocket where you hand currently grasps the fleshy part of my ***. See, I'm sensitive. I'm about to get my period. I get emotional sometimes.
All partially true but the truth is is that. I feel bad. Not bad, but bad. guarded. closing my mouth while kissing you. stoically replying to I miss you. It probably seems like I'm damaged in some kind of way. And I probably am, But I don't think that's why I'm acting so shy and strange.
I think I already gave my heart away. The receiver just doesn't know it yet. See with him, I feel shy, but never strange. My protective instincts melt away -- I guess he makes me feel safe. I don't know why you don't. But I find myself shutting you out so I can let him in, one day. Maybe it's the sound of his voice, or the thoughtful pauses between enigmatic takes. breaking through the static I've dreamt of changing it's frequency. Your own is loud, booming. Not so fluctuating. I didn't hear it before we met. I didn't have the opportunity to imagine the head neck and throat it was attached to. You were just there, all 6'3" 200 plus pounds of you.
You treat me nice, pay for my meals, make me laugh... Yet when you lean in I turn into the turtle version of myself naturally pulling away. Maybe I'm afraid. It's stupid but I feel like saving my body and feelings for him despite many touching them before. I want to be available when he's ready, even if ready takes a long time. I don't want to let myself be content, and forget about him.
He would notice I was crying right now and ask what was wrong. He notices everything. Sometimes it's annoying when he asks if I'm ok 50 times but I can't help but love it. I don't even want you to ask. See I'm uncomfortable being open when I'm half-committed, in body, but not in spirit.