The Warmth

There may be something about the slow sizzle of spring that makes me so weak. We talk about spring fever in an escence of teasing desire, but what it really truly means has nothing to do with being a teenager in love.

This warmth flows over my body and I long to be laying on a blanket in the grass beside you. I long to feel heat radiating from your body encompassing my desire with one ebb of air.

I want to reach out and touch you. I want to listen to your heartbeat with my ear pressed firmly to your chest. I want to run my fingers over the soft skin on your arms. To feel the dimple of your elbow and the kiss of sweat on the inside of it. To run my fingers through your hair and watch your eyes droop at the soothing sensation.

So many things about my desires just don't fit. So much of who I am just doesn't work with us. But no matter the ill-fit of our lives, I still want to breathe you.

I wish I could change it. You, me, us... but I can't. Nothing of this is changeable. This has all proven too much. We touch for what... habit, lust, fear, regret?

So here I am wishing it could be like that again. Here I am wishing to embrace all the warmth that is embracing me this season. I miss you. It hurts inside knowing that I chose this. I chose to come back to this stuckness.

I read back on the things I've had, the people I've met, the way we touched. It makes me sore. I want to be alive. I want to feel. To be the passionate person I was born to be and embraced for all that I bring to this relationship.

Someday I will picnic again. Someday I will lay beside a man that loves me for me. Someday I will be brave enough to walk away and find what I deserve. But until then this warmth will continue to melt me.