Dear Bear,
I said I wouldn't.
I said I wouldn't fall, I wouldn't feel.
Not for you.
I've done that before and it was frustrating.
But here we are; I am writing to you after all.
This feels different than it did in the spring; I have sunken further into you this time.
In the spring there was so much apprehension, too much intimidation.
But now I'm feeling comfortable, slowly showing my bare skin.
I'm laughing with you freely, and I've found that you don't think I'm dumb.
and I tell you things, things you always seem to remember.
but I still can't read you. I don't know how to interpret your attention.
You avoid my body; I watch how careful you are about that.
and I don't know what it means.
The funny thing is, when you ask for her, or laugh with her, or touch her, I don't feel burned by jealousy, just curiosity. I want to know how you see things; how you see me and how you see her.
I'm looking for a sign, any sort of potential reciprocation, but I think I might learn to be content without one.
You make me nervous, but not in a bad way anymore.
Although, I still can't help but look away first when you decide to stare.
Deeply infatuated,
Peach
