Something about breaking the touch barrier. Something about pupils dilating. Something about vocalizing a desire to know me better. It’s something.
I thought it was all in my head, that I was just lonely and happy to mistake your kindness for more than kindness. But it quickly became clear that it wasn’t all just make believe. It wasn’t just me. There is a mutual want creeping out of the scenery and threatening to swallow us whole, and my god, does it look tantalizing.
It’s there in the way you’ll lean in, your face inches from mine, and point out something in the distance. It’s there in the way your hand accidentally finds the small of my back and feels oddly at home there. It’s there in every second that ticks away while we stand in quiet darkness, sharing our fears and dreams with each other instead of those who wait up for us at home.
Something about sin, something about knowing better.
But when it comes down to these bare bones and knowing which secrets will start a fire, we forget that we can’t. We forget to behave, forget to know better. Fascination and inclination blur the lines and one of these nights, we’ll dance across them. We’ll burn and someone’s heart will break. And yeah, we should have known better, should’ve run sooner. But I called more than kindness just kindness and labeled the rest as simply make-believe. I never could have guessed that it wasn’t all just me.