Crashing Into Me

One of the saddest things about having a constant internal monologue is how good it is at effortlessly turning feelings into thoughts, labeling them and filing them away.

That is exactly what you are not supposed to do with feelings.

Yet there I was, actively doing the opposite.

I could not entirely register the sensation of pain in my lower lip.
My eyes were open, hers were closed, I could still see the love in them somehow.
I have never been kissed like that before, or rather bitten like that before. 

There was something unrestrained about it, something certain.
And that scared me.

I still could not let go of myself and give in.
“Not completely” added the internal monologue. 

I felt something. A lot, actually.
Enough to stay.
Enough to want more of this.
Though not enough to promise anything beyond it.

That difference, it felt small in the moment, but I knew it was not.

“Not completely” I replied with my other lip.

“What, babe?” she paused, for a second.

“It was nothi..” before I could finish, she kissed me again.

This time, slower, softer, like she was trying to say something without words.
Like she already believed in something I had not agreed to yet.

My hand moved around her waist, on instinct, that made it worse.

My body did not hesitate.
My presence did not hesitate.
Only my mind did.

I knew what this could become for her.
I knew what this could not become for me.
I let the moment to last a little longer.
Let her feel what she felt.
Let myself feel enough to remain.

Not completely.