Holding back

She looked positively miserable when I walked out her door yesterday. I didn’t feel good about that. I did, however, like the feel of her tears falling in my hair. Not because I want her to hurt, but because I want her to care. I don’t like being vulnerable, but I think she likes seeing my humanity. 

I wish it were different. I wish she had more confidence. I wish she were over her ex. I wish I could get more entwined without getting hurt. I wish she could see her own beauty. I wish I weren’t so incredibly attracted to her. I wish I didn’t have to walk away. I wish she weren’t leaving. Wishes in one hand, shit in the other – see which fills up first.

I didn’t wake up thinking about her today, which was good. I woke up thinking about what day of the week it was, which was odd. I keep replaying that last bit over in my head. My head on her chest. Her hand taking mine. Her tears in my hair. Feeling like I could sit with her like that forever. Her limp, unsure lips against mine.  That look on her face as she stared straight ahead when I walked out the door.

Everyone says this is better. The right decision. Better for me. When will I be able to stop holding back?