I hold your hands and I feel you quiver.
I look into your blue eyes, and I feel something plummeting inside. You are in love with someone, but it is not me. Deeply, madly in love, and there is no way I can stand against that crashing wave. ‘Us’ is fading away with each word you say, as you ask me to honor the only promise I ever made and step back quietly. I must go back to being just a friend, something I never really was, as from the very beginning I was what you refused to call your lover.
And I am indeed honor bound to do just that. Because that was the deal, because I have never lied to you, and I am not about to start now. And because I have been standing where you are, and I know how that rush of being in love feels, how overwhelming it is, how it erases everything around except the person you fall for.
And though I know how this is going to end, I look into your blue eyes, lean forward, and kiss you for the first time, in the light of a pink neon sign. Because you being in love with someone not me is still a year and a half away, and on our way, there will be moments when you, in a black corset, will sway your hips atop incredibly sexy heels,and will lead me, speechless, to your bedroom. When you will hold me tight, after coming with me in ways you did not think possible. When you will laugh, and moan, and smile with me and for me.
And I don’t want to miss any of that.