Want. She whispers that in my ear sometimes, when she can’t have me. She makes me want like that. She makes me want more. I was worried i might scare her off, or just that she wouldn’t be interested. (She was afraid of scaring me off with love; i was afraid of scaring her off with sex. I think we’re both centering.) I was unsure how to lead that – there’s only so much you can simply say (or, it’s simply not my style). I was pulling that thread, slow, carful, anticipating the moment it might snap, stop, end.
But it hasn’t. It’s come nearly past the part i recognize. I don’t know what comes next; how long it is or what it might be tied to, threaded through. It makes me want to pull harder. I’m don’t know what comes next and i want to tease it out of her. I want to pull her; find her edges. I want her to push me. I want to know my limits. More, i want to know that place just inside of my limits. I want almost too much. And i want her to find it.