I miss you.
Here I am, having all of these things to do a slight distance away but I’m stuck missing you like some desperate, horny, giddy teenager who is hopeful enough to believe that the voice jerking me around on this website belongs to you. You’ve literally put your hands on me, pressed your body against me in so many ways that it’s hard to believe that you don’t feel the same way. Your eyes. Your stare . . . the soulful smile behind those beautiful eyes as you observe me during those joyful moments we get to share. Yet this is all we get for now. Not-so-misplaced communication in a public forum where it is more likely than not that we are mere strangers reaching out for an idealization of an ugly truth.
It’s true that I am not prepared to make any hard decisions yet. There are too many layers of bullshit invading both of our lives right now to jeopardize what currently lies before us. It doesn’t stop me from missing you. Even when you’re standing right in front of me. Not from calling out your name as I drive around this out-of-town town. Not from emotionally insulating myself from the idea that I may one day leave her for you, even if you can’t bring yourself to meet me halfway.
I’m already yours. My body yearns for you. My soul wants yours. My mind won’t allot me a moment without you. Sometimes I breathe in deeply and can swear that you’re right here making me so clenched and tight and scattered all over the freeway in confused knots. My God, I love you. I’m not playing. I love you . . .
. . . and I don’t know what to do about it.