But, it didn't look like this feels, so I am stuck now in this cognitive dissonance trying not to care why you felt so scared and remember why I do or if I should.
I guess I didn't expect this to be what it was like, because you were always free with those words and actions, welcoming me onto the surface of your heart within a week of what was supposed to be a one-night stand. My head always fit perfectly on your chest, so close to the once broken, but now fixed beating... So close that I didn't notice. I didn't know that it was just words; lyrics to a song that hid your fear.
It never looked like this feels, so I struggle to free myself from the need to build a time machine back so I can ask the you of those days questions, and instead focus on asking the me of right now questions.
But I think I know the answers to these questions, so it would be pointless in the end, just as the questions were then. I know what I fear, and I know what I don't know. I know I shouldn't get comfortable and I know I am more or possibly too much.... and as I write these words, I realize that somewhere in the very core of your body, you knew these things too. You knew I had the upper hand. You knew how it would end, or you were going to play it out that way... I'm not sure which.
It never looked like this feels, so I now vacillate between sitting in it and high-tailing it as 19 year old, 22 year old, and 28 year old me would have... Wishing I had the comfort of surprise trips to ice cream, sweet flowers, and words-- even if they were just to hide fear; to still this spinning; calm this rupture; sooth the little one inside... until I get the courage to exhale as I did that night on the corner of 16th and Mission.