It's happening again.
You are occupying my thoughts to the point that I cannot think straight. I don't want to think. I want to run away from my own mind. I try, desperately, to fill my mind with any other image than the one of you laying in bed, naked, me nestled into your side like a perfect puzzle piece. I try to blink it away. To open my eyes so I see what's surrounding me in this moment of hot, desperate pain. To ground myself. To snap myself out of the past and into the present. You are sitting on a plane. The seats are grey. The carpet has polka dots. I try to remember the bad, the ugly, along with the sickeningly good, the beautiful.
But as soon as I close my eyes again, there you are. I smell your smell. It smells like home. I'm kissing your neck, I can feel your dewy skin. I see your moles and imperfections and all those marks on your body that I loved so dear. That I love so dear. My hands are running through your hair. You tell me it feels so good and I see the goosebumps rise on your bare chest. And we lay there, in complete comfort, in complete awe of eachother. In complete love.
And then I'm lost. In a deep, dark sea full of why and what ifs and how could yous and please please please don't do this'.
It happened again.
