doe again. prev kidwound/doelescent/devoutdaughter

Your room could show your age before your face could. You're carefree in a way I never have been. Long forgotten CDs, video games in the wrong cases, posters for bands that aren't together anymore. I joke a lot about how old you are. I hope you don't notice how I actually feel about that when I say it. 

The music that plays through your worn out speakers is heavier than anything I've ever listened to, but I like it because it makes me think of you. It vibrates through the floor and the bass thumps at the same rate that my heart slams against my ribs when I look at you. You've been learning to play some of these songs on instruments slid into the corner. I can't watch you practice anymore. It makes me lightheaded. I imagine your hands in places I'm sure they'll never be. 

We're talking, and instead of raising your voice for me to hear you, you sit too close, voice at my ear. Breath fanning my neck. We touch, casually, and I have to pretend it doesn't make my hands shake. I wonder if the way I look at you like a deer in headlights is noticeable. You're chewing bright green mint gum and your eyes are so dark. You grin all loose and cocky and I feel like I'm going to die, because it's always been you. Since we were kids; it was you. It's never not going to be you. Every person I try to fill your place with will never measure up.

When your lips do finally touch mine, sure and solid, I feel like I've done something wrong. That we are doing something we shouldn't be. The guilt and panic rise in my throat. This is going to change everything.