December 6, 2013

My head turns away, briefly, for a second. Slowly as my head turns towards him, lips touch lips and I fall deep under.....

Sometimes I don't really realize what mess I'm in or how crazy and far fetched my actions have been. But I always believe that I'm making the right choices. Or at least I think I am.
I just want to be sure of this...to not walk away with a broken heart.
If I were to remotely feel any emotion for him, I know that it will be my demise.
I see him ..and all I see is everything I want.
And when he looks at me,..its the satisfaction of knowing I'm all he wants..at that moment..at that time..in that place.
In that moment, I'm all that matters.

Believe me, I am scared, I am emotional, I am lost.
But I am not an object to be played around with. And until he understands that, maybe I can feel some sort of emotion, maybe even happiness about our relationship.
One minute I am smiling, reminiscing about us...skin on skin, our breath synchronized into one, eyes locked on each other...to me, its just us.
To him, who knows?

I am always questioning, judging, predicting, imagining the worst. When he's not with me, who is he with? When he's not texting me, who is he talking to? When he's alone, who is he thinking about?
When will it stop? When will I stop thinking about him?
If I don't get a hold of myself, it will overwhelm me and be the death of me.

But let's be clear. I'm learning to keep it controlled. He doesn't affect me the way he used to. Maybe because in a way, I learned to turn it off. Turn off what I feel because in the end, I know the outcome. But I'm stupid and I'm naive and I know regardless, it will end badly for me.
Yet, I still cling to him like a poor puppy on a leash. I can't let go...until he lets me go.
I'm his slave, and he does what he wants, when he wants, and whatever he pleases.

As I stare into his eyes, pain visible on my face, I see genuine concern. I blink to see whether it really is real. He asks me if I'm okay....

Sometimes I like to believe he does really care. Sometimes I like to believe that he feels something, anything for me. Sometimes I like to trick my mind into thinking he cares about me...that I'm not one of those girls on the list he will cross off in the future.
Sometimes I like to believe, that I matter to him.

I hold onto hope, and my wishful thinking.

I gaze at him one more time, as his lips press gently to mine. Close my eyes for just a second, so that when it ends, at least that is something I can hold on to...to at least keep me sane.

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