We never really did touch but is it still valid if I said I missed the feel of His hands? Rough but oh, so soft to me. I doubt I could ever find any part of Him unsatisfactory, or at least not right now. Not in my head. Not when right is left but left is right and I was right when I left him so why do I feel so left? But He feels right and I don't know how I should feel about that because what if He's not right or what if I'm left? Should two halves make a whole or are we just not cut out for eachother?
There's just too much, too many, too overwhelming for me to describe and I've never felt this way but I have and I'm so afraid that I will again. And I tell Him that I love Him and I mean it and I think "damn, I've really come through this time haven't I?" But I came through last time and maybe I'll come through next time and what if I just keep coming through and never just be? Or what if I decide to just be but just being could never have been and now it's too late to go and everything's just grey. And when it's not grey it's the memory of him and the memory of them and the feeling of broken glass on broken skin. There's no way for me to ever know if what I feel now is real because it was real the last time and then it was all a lie and he broke that cupboard door because that's what he was like as a person and I was too blinded to see it then ; what if I'm blinded now? What if tomorrow I look back and say "yeah it was a bad decision on my end, it was fun while it lasted but you know what He was like."
But I still miss Him. And I miss His cotton rough hands that I haven't held nearly enough. I haven't sat with Him in the blushing half-light when the world starts to nod off along to the silent melody of crashing waves and winking stars. I haven't sat down with Him and stared at nothing but seen everything. I certainly haven't. And I uncertainly may not ever. For all I know He could just be a saccharine daydream that only ends in crossroads and unsent texts on influenced nights. But I do know that he scared me, he scared me so much. But it was the kind of fear that hits you too late, the kind of fear that only leaves you paranoid ; planning for the worst and dreaming of an escape. I could escape now but it feels like I'm stuck in a prison that treats me better than the world outside, leaving me experiencing the best and expecting the worst.
I know it's my own fault that I can't walk out of this tiny closet in my own mind. Can't stop hearing that deafening blare of a siren that doesn't exist. Can't stop seeing red when my eyes are closed. But even with a hand around my throat, He's made me feel safer than I've felt in a very long time. Maybe the slamming doors and uncut ropes were worth it. Maybe I'm better off with a warm hand hovering on my windpipe than I am with cold shackles to my past. Maybe it's time I truly forget about the them and focus on the Us. Or maybe I'll never escape and they'll forever haunt me until I join them or die trying.
