In order to rise
From its own ashes
But that was the problem. I wanted to be kissing you goodnight and I was settling on goodbye.
Nuzzled up in your arms, lips pressed lightly to your neck. Your fingers caress hip bones. My own, lay delicate upon your chest. It almost feels like home. Almost. But then caution sets in and skewed perceptions persevere. Boys only want one thing, right? So what happens when you JUST KNOW that somewhere along the way, you touched his soul. You just had to have. Because there is no other explanation for the way you catch him looking at you or for the pounding of his chest, knocking through to resting finger tips. Am I a stupid woman for thinking he actually cares or an even more stupid, scarred woman for the gut wrenching notion that all boys only want one thing.