Knees.

Your kiss can bring me to my knees.
The knees you pushed me down upon yesterday, with your words.
The ones I stayed down on, scraped and bruising, hurting elsewhere.
The same knees you cleaned off with I'm Sorrys and tenderness.
And then you kiss me, and I'm down on them again.

I liked this so much, I took this from my other blog, Open Secrets, and put it here as well.

Phew.

A good roll in the hay was just what I needed today.

I feel so much better, and we're so much closer now.

I miss you.

It's not like you went anywhere.
We still do the things we always do. I see you almost every day. Yet, I feel different.

I miss the days when we were fifteen and sixteen, best friends, and figuring out how everything worked, figuring out ourselves. We're still changing, but it's different. I don't see everything out of rose-colored glasses anymore. I have burdens, illegitimate burdens, the kind that you don't see but that eat you from the inside out. You have burdens, the kind that weigh down your heart with worry and leave you awake at night. The kind that you can one day rid.

I wonder where these years went. Three years, now that's a long time, love. I'm twenty. I'm still young but for some reason, today, I feel old.
I miss high school, and the days when we'd walk back to my house, and play and sleep and sometimes discover what a couple would do with their bodies, alone.
I know that you'd cringe if you knew that I was writing about this on the internet, and I'm feeling kind of ashamed that I'm doing it anyway.

I wonder why I feel different, like I don't have all these opportunities at my fingertips, when, really, I do.

I don't even know where this entry is going.

What did we do within these three years? We grew up, and yet we didn't.
And now I have to face the fact that we've only grown apart in my eyes, and only because of me. In reality, we are how we've always been. Am I imagining things? Am I being melodramatic? I don't know.

All I know is that, right now, I want you. I want to be with you, alone, in the middle of the day with the sunlight streaming through or the rain pounding against the roof of wherever we are, and I want to tumble with you between pristine white sheets and map the terrain of your body, sticky, sweaty, and you. I want to kiss your neck, the soft space that I love to feel. I want to feel you blindly, and know that this is right. I want you to make me feel whole again, like you used to, make me forget the empty ache eating me inside, with sweet soft words pressed against my ear.

I miss that, sweetheart.
I miss you. ★

Fear.

Last night I finally told me what was bugging me these past few days, though I didn't tell him that it's been bugging me for that long.

I told him that I didn't know if I wanted to be with him for much longer. I told him of my pent-up anger, my jealousy, my loneliness. I told him how I couldn't just watch him do something I so desperately want to be a part of, knowing that I will never be. I told him of how I wonder if there is someone better out there for me, if there is a guy that would love me more. I told him how angry I was that love isn't how they make it out to be in movies, or in books.

I didn't tell him that I was scared of letting go.
I didn't tell him that, really, I want to let go of him and see new things, meet new people, try to find out if a wild and passionate love really does exist.
I didn't tell him. I didn't tell him, and so I stayed.