When we sat over a beer at a local dive bar, Hannah told me my mind was no place for any sane person to be. I’d tried to understand, but my thoughts juggled with consent to kiss her black lipstick. I drummed my fingers along the table’s edge well before my mind told me not to. I walked our friendship along a tightrope, trembling, shaking with internal sobs; my heart raced for a taste of her pale skin. My diffidence suffocates the fear I see when no one is looking, the fear in me, in my bones. An insatiable desire to attach Hannah’s name above my bed, tangled in silk sheets, sent chills the length of my spine. If only she saw me as more than a friend, she’d know my mind was a treasure trove of bliss, awaiting her permission for granted wishes.
(© 2022 AC)