Safety and Surrender

I fidget. I look at my phone, tap my foot, play with my hair, smile, scowl, stretch, examine my nails, check out your profile, check my phone, throw it away and stare uncomprehendingly at the work I'm supposed to be doing.

I wait. I wait for you to text, whatsapp, message. I wait for you to ask for my number, wait for you to look up, to look at me, wait for you to ask me to look at you.

I soar and I drown and I bite the skin near my nails and I think and talk- I think and talk, and I talk and think, to you, about you, and to you about you and me.

I smile at my phone, my beautiful cracked phone which shows me your beautiful words, to crack my happy safe heart with, melt my armour and leave the soft flesh for you to love and cherish- and wound and pinch, to leave me wracking with tearless sobs from the softest of cuts.

And I write. I write things like- "I'm scared" and "I like him too much" and "I don't know" and "I want." And I write about this boy, who makes me smile, and eats up all my time, and I cannot explain why. For the love of god, I cannot explain why. It's too much, but it isn't enough, and it turns out all the cliches are true after all.

~Sam