Rendezvous
21 April 09 : 12.02 AM
Not calling him, not talking to him, not thinking about him keeps me calm. I'm okay like this; laughing a lot with Jiang and Serena, talking to Edith in caps, everything else that doesn't involve him. I find myself afraid to talk to him now. I don't want to go back to crying, hysterical and deep clawing my own arms in anguish. Just thinking about it fucks my head up. I don't need that, I don't need that, I tell myself I really don't need that, but in the tiny pockets of remembering how he kisses me in the morning and whispers I love you, I still melt like ice in his palm. But the thought of speaking to him scares me endlessly. I rather this silence. I'm starting to not mind this silence.
Come back. My skin's not used to the absence of heat from another, light kisses on my nape before we sleep. A hand inside my shirt to hold me tighter. We consume each other sometimes. In more than one sense of the word.