I realize the enormity of the simple gesture of looking into your eyes
because you see right to the crux of me.
And it's frightening.
Unbelievably frightening.

But this moment is laden with loosening liquid and unvoiced desire
that I were someone else on your couch.
Not this bumbling short haired girl that wishes you
hadn't looked at her like that in the first place.

However, this fleeting instance is undeniably lovely- because you actually see me and
that brings tears to my eyes. But I know when sunlight streams
in on our intertwine bodies- our words will become
stilted and littered with subtext. Unfortunately- what does stay the same
is what you say to me in the morning- just like the last time we'd shared something beautiful.

'I don't want to hurt you.'

Fuck, does it hurt- just a little bit more then it did the first time you said that to me.