[private] I couldn't utter my love when it counted; birthing

[adna]

one touch will make you so nervous you might stop breathing
one touch will make you so reckless you might start feeling
one touch will finally show to me what you can't hide

Perhaps one day they will tell each other the truth.

Perhaps they will rip it from their tongues and bleed it out. She will show him the ugliest parts of her heart and he will be surprised that there is more to show. She will show him the way that she hungers for things she never should. She will tell him about how she twists herself around pain like worship; how sometimes she thinks that she may be addicted to that too.

But the moment is sweet and they both abide by the white flag they raise.

It will not last forever, she knows.

She will push too far and he will barely react or react too hard and she will snap. They will be at each other’s throats. They will see red. They will walk away.

(But maybe they will walk back, she thinks. Maybe they will.)

“I don’t think it’s lousy at all,” she whispers like it’s a secret. Like he may not know just how deeply she thinks it is wonderful. Like she could unravel just how wonderful she thinks that he is so he could look at it through her eyes and know the truth of it.

She wishes she could give him at least this much.

“Do you think you’ll ever believe me?” her voice quiet as she murmurs this too. “Do you think you’ll ever trust me when I tell you that I think—“ She shakes her head, knowing the words were too close to the heart of it and knowing she could trip over it far too easily.

“Nevermind,” she whispers and curls against him, wishing she hasn’t said anything at all./p>

ADNA