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If I Could

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If I could hear you breathing for one more night, feel your chest rise with every breath you took, feel your fingers on my hip, your chin on my forehead, for one more night. If I could be with you, and watch you sleep, go back and feel the warmth of your hands on my hip, my legs, and the touch of your lips between mine, pulling away and coming back for more, like ocean waves playing with the sand. If I could go back and feel the tickle of your hair against my chest, your lips being gentle with what they find, for just one more night, one more minute, I would tell you those three words you wanted to hear.
Don’t go tonight, stay.
I have to, you know I do.
If I could slide my hands over you and feel the curves on your back again, your skin pressed against mine, like they were meant to touch and create electricity, I would tell you what you needed to stay. If I could feel the tingle of your cold toes against my calves, the way they always did before, feel your thumbs rub against my stomach while you kissed my forehead, and moved in closer until I could feel you pressed up into me, your breath warm, silent, your kisses soft, I would tell you I loved you.
Do you love me?
Do you think I do?
I never thought that I could look into someone’s eyes and be so mesmerized before. I never thought loving you would be so easy to do, so hard to say, and if I had said it, maybe you would still be here next to me, loving me the way you whispered those words into my ear and my neck the way you did those nights, those nights in your arms in your bed, your car, on your blanket at the beach, in the open field behind your house, those nights at the lake, playing in the water without any clothes, those nights with you, and just you.
The best thing is that we can see the stars.
If you saw a shooting star, what wish would you make?
I’d wish for you.
But you already have me.
Not all of you.
I never thought that I could be so enchanted by the sound of someone’s voice, the way it made my throat close up, not wanting to speak so that you would keep speaking. The way you laughed, I could feel it echo in my chest, and the way you smiled, it would always make me smile back… Sometimes I think about the day you said you loved me, and how I smiled, just smiled, and I kissed you, but I didn’t say it back, because I figured it was implied, but maybe it wasn’t because I couldn’t say it.
I love you.
I know.
We always had implied conversations, even before we were together, like the time we were at a party, and a guy, who couldn’t stand up straight, or even speak without slurring his words, starting flirting with me. I was uncomfortable; everywhere I went he followed, so you came up to us and started talking to me like you were my boyfriend, and I started talking to you like I was your girlfriend.
You left your purse in the car, do you need it?
Oh, no, I can get it later when you take me home.
I won’t take you home that easily.
Really now, where would you take me then?
Everywhere the world has to offer.
We were good liars; he left me alone after that. I didn’t know that the little lie we told that night would become the truth, and I didn’t know that you’d ever love me. I didn’t know that I’d ever love you.
I didn’t know that you had to say those three words back to someone, because I didn’t know those three words existed with someone like you, someone so kind, so calm, so soft and gentle. I never knew those words could come out of your mouth, because you weren’t the type to tell me how you felt, because you showed me with your actions.
Do you love me?
Of course I do.
You don’t ever say it.
I don’t need to, you already know.
If I did, you would’ve said it.
If I could feel your tongue find my secrets, while your hands kept them close, smell your cologne, your aftershave, and find your secrets, too, I’d kiss you back. If I could feel the warmth of your chest against mine, the crevices of your back, your shoulder blades, with my fingertips, your hair, damp, intertwined with my hair, while you kissed me, and kissed me again. If I could feel you hold the back of my neck while I felt you come closer, tighter, I would tell you that I’d never want you to leave. If I could spend one more night with you, and do it all over again, I would tell you I loved you, but back then, I didn’t know what love meant.
Can you say it?
I can’t.
You don’t love me.
I do.
Then please, tell me.




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