big girls don't cry

i sit shotgun with my hands folded neatly in my lap, unchained, but held down with a force too deep to understand. weighed down by the heaviness of self-control, shame and respect. I fiddle to keep them from reaching over to grasp his, and so I sit on them too scared to show an action that once was so easy.
i sat shotgun with my hands intertwined with his, while his calluses rubbed against my skin leaving traces that i could still outline with my fingers. he had this manner, like a nervous tapping of the feet when anxious, where hed always bring my hands to his lips. i asked him why he always did that, "your face is too far." is what he replied back...i loved his hands...I still do.

i look at him, searching...a hard look to his face, like a marble statue with an unwavering facade. and when our gaze do finally lock, i seek warmth and reassurance, but instead i find a cold pit staring back at me. like those recognizable stares from strangers that last for more than 5 seconds, where you see a faint glimmer and as soon as you walk past each other it fades...a stare of a stranger..
i looked at him and he returned the same vision. so easy he was with those eyes it was unnerving. butterflies and heartaches too good I would feel my legs turn into jelly and he'd stare at me so intently making me feel as if i was the only girl in the world.

I talk to him with caution, eggshell walking on my tip toes. borders that once didn't exist came to play, and watching what I said to him was a task that tested my willpower to an extent. so I blabbered nonsense, and hid behind my "fuck" and "motherfuckers." he lacked, and I feened. silence was thickest, giving me room of thoughts of could-be conversations. and so heavy sighs were frequent.
I talked to him without any second thoughts or hesitations. the spectrum was as broad as the horizon. from the talks of forever and promises, to the light bickering on who's turn it was to choose where to eat out. our silences were comforting, we'd exchange hand squeezes and glances to each other and from that mere transfer of affection, no words were needed to be spoken.

I kiss him, and it's as if I lost all memory to something so sweet. the taste is so familiar, yet so new. like a familiar scent you cant recall, but it takes you back to your childhood days...we kiss with fast mouths and hurried breaths. searching for hidden whispers perhaps? biting back our tongues avoiding unspoken exchanges that would break it all.
I kissed him,  and I felt my entrity come ablaze. the spaces in between us, the lust, the tension, the longing...the love...would be engulfed by us both when our lips finally met. the passion would bring Venus to her knees. "you kiss by the book.."

we touch with a sense of desire of, a touch. it was fed with hunger and need. his hands gripped tighter than usual, rougher than usual, colder than usual. and I reacted with the same amount of lacking. as much as pleasure coincided with pleasure, the missing piece that once differentiated making love to having sex was an arms reach away. but the effort to to do so wasn't voluntarily wanted, so it hung over our bodies. waiting...
we touched with a sense of desire of each others wholeness. I revelled at his passion, and his intensity. and the exchanges between us was something, I, as a soul being was made for. our bodies fit in unison.

I loved him...i love him...to stand strong behind my heart is a fools paradise. but a foolish girl with a heavy heart, but an unwavering will is  a paradise in within itself. better days will come in better time...for now I sit, in the shallowness of my so called patience and myself. I'll wait for you.