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It’s bittersweet because this should be the start of something.
But why does it feel like the end?
We sit.
We stare.
We don’t speak because speaking would ruin it.
The familiar electricity bounces between us until it consumes the air.
I pounce.
My mouth collides with his. Tongues dueling, he doesn’t stumble when he stands, taking me with him. I lock my ankles around his waist, swallowing his groan and feeling the vibration in his chest.
He’s careful with me, placing a gentle hand behind my head as he rests me on the bed. He unbuttons my jeans and I toss my t-shirt over my head. I need to feel him.
Because he makes me feel.
Skin on skin, our eyes lock as he eases himself inside me. A quiet gasp fills my chest. Filled, he stills to look at me.
I don’t want to see it in the look we share, but we can’t deny it.
There’s too much damage done. We need to repair.
One look.
And what we see in each other could be the ultimate break.
We need to repair separately.
We get too lost in each other to mend. Our vacuum isn’t the right environment. We’ll never be whole together until we fix ourselves because we’ll bleed ourselves dry while trying to heal the other.
I want to stay whole. I want to keep all the pieces of myself together. Even if those pieces were few, at least I still recognized the foundation.
But I fear I’m shattered. I’ve cracked in ways that can’t be put back together.
Not quickly.
Too many parts of myself lie with others. They’ve been smothered in the rubble of my past, and I don’t know how to find them.
He deserves a life with someone not looking for pieces of themselves in every step they take.
He deserves whole.
He deserves everything.
I’m not whole.
Not now.
Not yet.
Someday, maybe.
I bite down on my quivering lip.
Fingers gripping the back of my head, he pulls me to him, pressing his head against mine as he begins to move.
