“I can’t forget the softness of his lips.
I breathe in, and I feel the earth moving underneath me,
But it’s not earth; it’s skin, muscle, and bones.
They trace every part of me,
His fingers flow through my body like water in a river.
My heartbeat races as his breath touches my shoulders,
And I can’t help but close my eyes,
Not to show my eyes rolling into my head.
He controls my pulse like a puppeteer to his poupée.
My chest aches, it burns, it swells.
It’s a feeling I hadn’t felt before,
Not with anyone,
Not with him.”
Her handwriting was messy; they were hieroglyphs that only she could understand. Her eyes followed the ink she’d just spilled into words across the page, reading the corny poem over and over again. Her heat ran in her chest, she needed to get the anxiety out of her system. Not even biting her lip and playing with her hand between her legs would make him forget about him. She closed her eyes at her shame.
But closing her eyes only worsened the situation.
She felt her blood rush to her face, warming her body, making her feel anxious again. She bit her lip and tried to forget, but she still remembered the scent of his shirts and the way he made her feel when he smiled down at her from afar.
The girl shook her head and brought both hands to her face. She simply couldn’t do this to herself, she simply couldn’t fall for a man who had his own life already, who wouldn’t care about some twenty-one year old with too many dreams filling up her head.
Not even if this was Paris, not even if she felt like she could achieve it all would he really lay his eyes on her. She knew he was only being nice to her, like a knight and his damsel in distress… except he wasn’t hers, and she wasn’t his.
Blushing always made her lightheaded and dizzy, and she was sick of feeling so new to love.
No, this was not love. It was only infatuation for a person she clearly could not have.
She knew it was only silly dreams again, things she couldn’t really obtain for they were out of her reach, and simply some things were just not meant to be.
“I still see kindness in his smile,
I want it to be mine alone, if only for a while.
To have his lips touch mine,
His arms wrapped around me,
Always vigilant, my valiant knight.”
She laughed at her own words. She was ridiculous. She was too immature still.