Sometimes it feels as though I am sitting at the bottom of a pool.
I am holding my breath, watching others swim above me.
It’s so blurry underwater…
All I can make out….. is the beauty of the sunlight above.
You know, I do this to myself.
I hold my breath until my lungs give out
And I come up gasping for air.
I crawl out and lay on the cement.
Let the sun beat down on my face,
Breathe in and out.
Here I am at peace.
But the deep…dark… pull of the water always whispers to me.
What does it want?
It is always like that with you…
It gets hotter than the Sahara desert and I am dying to quench my thirst.
You pull me in and its all consuming.
I can’t just have one drop, I need buckets, and I need to be submerged, consumed.
I feel myself losing control.
Losing control of the way I feel.
Crossing over lines, we have never crossed before.
Am I an object?
Something shiny you can’t have and that’s what makes you want me even more.
Do I want to be an object?
Do I want you to not be able to eat, sleep, live without me?
I honestly don’t know.
I don’t think we could ever find a happy medium.
The sex my god the sex would be fireworks, more passion than we could ever imagine.
But the compromising, we could never do that.
Two dominant personalities.
Two people who hate giving in.
Who hate apologizing.
Who hate being the weak one.
I would need to feel as though I am not expendable,
And you… you would need to feel right about everything.
We would be matches and gasoline.
If you play with fire you are going to get burned..
and this keeps repeating over and over.
So how do I let it go?
Why is it so damn hard for me to let a bad thing go?
Someone once told me, I always believe in second chances..
The lets give it one more go, one more try,
And maybe that’s my problem.
But do I want to be the kind of person who doesn’t believe in second chances?
Maybe I should just be honest with him.
I keep everyone at arms distance and he has no idea what I want.
Maybe I like him.
Okay deep down I know I like him.
I hate to admit it.
I have never wanted to admit it because I knew as soon as I did; I would have to let him go.
But it’s true, and he isn’t ever going to change,
He is young, reckless, and I don’t have time to be reckless.
I think about him between the sheets,
But I also think about him on cold winter nights,
Wrapped up in front of the fire,
Laying in each others arms,
It’s not practical.
He has someone.
And I fight to stay away and he fights to pull me close and I can’t break another girls heart simply for the expense of fulfilling mine.