Tangled Up In You

There was a moment, late last night, that I lied in a haze stuck somewhere between dreaming and alertness. I was aware, yet confused.  My eyes were closed, my body still, yet I knew I was awake.  Usually, I don’t like these moments…stuck in a time I cannot measure.  My body gets wrapped up in my mind–and I’m familiar, only in these moments, of what I have to lose.

I have a keen ability to close my mind off from my body. Silencing my thoughts, allows my body to run free. I can fall in love in an instant, convince myself that chasing a feeling is as important as sustaining it.

I’m used to feeling with only half of myself. I can believe words without ever requiring a truthful action to accompany it.  I love you can exist even as you betray me.

This time feels different. When he touches me, his words burn in the back of my mind. When he kisses the small of my neck, I feel beautiful, and when he tells me I am, I remember how it felt when he held me.  This is my body relying on my mind…my mind reinforcing what my body feels…

When he leaves, my fingers remember the way his stomach feels, right before it meets his hips, and I cannot believe how much the words he sends me, resemble how good it feels to touch him.

And somehow…his body… tangled up in mine, can erase all the words still inscribed on my mind.  All the I hate you’s…all the goodbyes…all the lies, wash away. And all that remains, I suppose, is the way he sees me. I wonder most, if what he sees is what I am.

Second chances, it turns out, aren’t so much about starting over…but feeling your way through your thoughts…learning to trust that when a body reaches out for yours, it is possible that it isn’t going to hurt.



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