this.
has to stop.
I keep thinking it’s under control and that sane moments are prevailing and that eventually, maybe this one time, today, I will wake up and not love you. Because yesterday I was at least over the love letter enough to speak to you without telling you that I want to start a forever with you today. I thought I spoke very sensibly, and that while there was some aftermath of slicked thighs and caramel thoughts of skin pressed together, the logical conclusion for me was that this was lust.
not Love
which.
has to stop.
One love song.
One stupid, sappy, sentimental sensitive, sensory recollection embedded in a love song dissolved me back in time, salty tears mixing with the ocean of the love I hold inside for you.
One song and I’m ruined, progress discarded. I thought all the venting of my soul was supposed to help me reclaim my control, my dominance over my heart and my thoughts and my resolve not to pursue this until the time is right or maybe not at all.
Wait, when did I start saying “until the time is right” or “maybe” not at all? I can’t have these thoughts because they are blurring into fantasies I can’t handle and
that.
has to stop.
Then there’s the pining. Seriously, am I 12? I’m supposed to be in lust, so where is all this internal whining coming from? Why can’t I just get. a grip. And go back to the empty quiet life I had, slowly building an ice wall around myself in a comfy cool separation? How did you get back into my head?
And since when do I think about you when I’m not in bed? And why can’t I fight against my emotions, or at least just pretend that in the end I’ll
be able to
…stop …