oh but I already knew that about you, he said.
then came the tug on my elbow and i was pulled into the curve of his chest where my eyelashes beat on the cotton of his white t-shirt. my palms against his chest, i felt the cadence of his swelling and collapsing lungs and let my mind wander:
if i were the air in those lungs, what kind of air would i be?
(the freezing air of a too early winter morning. the kind that hurts and makes you gasp and reminds you that you are alive.)
and in that moment of thought i was lovely. i was feminine. i allowed myself to be comfortable on his white cotton t-shirt.
still it was not a minute later that i shuddered. i squirmed.
i had realized that i was not yet ready to have someone fix my importance parallel with that of the very air in their lungs.
so he shrugged. he released me.
it is howmuchlongernow? and i wake to streaks of sunlight sifting through my blinds and creating diagonals on the pale of my arm. my eyelashes blink on the white cotton of my pillowcase. i feel the cadence of my swelling and collapsing lungs and let my mind wander:
if he were the air in those lungs, what kind of air would he be?
(the hazy air of a shady dive bar filled with smoke. as intoxicating as it is alluring. the kind that hurts and makes you gasp and reminds you that all things die.)
and though i am not ready to want someone so much i find their presence as addictive as nicotine, i let myself be feminine for a moment.
i think of what it might be like if you drew me back into that curve of your chest. back into the only place where it actually felt comfortable to be so well known.
i shudder. i release the idea.
but you already knew this about me.