You’ll probably never read this, but that’s okay, I don’t think I would have really wanted you to. Its monday morning but it feels nothing like it, I’m so tired, so terribly terribly tired. I was up until four, up at five, came home at six and fell asleep until three. It didn’t help that much. A wasted day. I’m in my room, the wind against my skin is the most wonderful feeling, and I want nothing more than to sink into my pillows and sheets and sleep forever. With you here.
But you’re not and you won’t be for a long good while, and I don’t know when and I’ve been so good at not thinking, not thinking about it and not thinking about you, but sometimes it happens, you know, it sneaks up on me, carried with the breath of the cool air or the whisper of the sheets. And I think about other lips and naked necks you could be thinking, I think about melodramatic scenes and tears and begging you to simply hold me.
I think about noticing dilated pupils, that’s a sign of attraction, did you know that, and friendliness, psychology studies have proven it. I remember watching the small black circles of your ocean sprayed eyes expand ever so slightly and smiling on the inside but I didn’t say anything, just took it and held it within me. And on the one hand it’s all meaningless, it’s all disposable fun, a good fuck, a distraction, that was all. But then this, and my head is filled with balloons and sentimentality and romance and I know, I know it’s stupid and mostly in my mind, I know I shouldn’t and I won’t but it’s not easy to always keep it at such a distance, you know?
But you probably don’t (and why should you?) and that’s it, that’s our little unspoken agreement, broken only when I can hear your heart beating with my head against your chest. (But I don’t say anything then, either, like now, like how you’ll never read this and that’s the way it has to be, should be, will be.)
Somewhere inside, I think I smiled then.