Seeing you every night is insufferable.

“You’re late.”

I’m aware.

The shame of the circumstance has really begun to set in.

I have so many thoughts and so little time to myself.

When I’m all alone in my room,

it gets hard to ignore.

I dream of soft skin

and the way your face might look when you let go of your inhibitions.

You’ve got the prettiest tan skin I’ve ever seen

and I want to put my hands all over it.

It makes me want to close my eyes and just let myself feel.

It’s been a while, but it’s still shocking and hurtful.

Sitting down right across from you,

trying to pretend I’m not still bitter and angry,

is a nightmare.

I’m so outrageously angry.

I care about you and I want to proclaim it in any and every way imaginable.

Everyone here is aware of this rising tension,

but no one dares to say anything about it.

As if speaking of it would open the floodgates and put the whole room six feet under.

Because everyone knows I won’t hold back.

I always say it how it is when it comes to you.

And I know I’m not the only one with something to say.

I can tell you’ve got some opinions too,

but you’ve always been so much better at keeping your composure than me.

I want to do anything and everything to you; with you.

I want to do so much more than hold your hand.

It gets too easy to allow myself to think you want the same.

You don’t want me.

You want someone you can take home to your parents and make an impressionable image of.

You want to push boundaries but would never dare to cross them.

You don’t like that you’ll never be able to make a handsome face out of me.

And I resent you for it.