Desire

The crush is still very much on.

I am just waiting for it to get over.

It hurts to watch them together, watch her ask him to spend the night at her place.

I know that he sees me as a friend. Yet it hurts to see him use the same codes of friendship with our other friends.

They are not in a good phase in their relationship. He wants out, he is frustrated. She wants him completely in, and ends up choking him. ( Yes Bloyer, I now kind of understand how you would have felt).

I argue for her, I ask him not to give up on the relationship, I give her hope and strength. I do as a good friend ought to do.

But I do know that, if he brush his lips against mine, I would not flinch, and will invite him to my bed in a second. Desire is there, ever ready, ever watchful for a little slip in my reserve.

I desire him. I want to make love with him on the secluded meadow through which we jog, and when I jog I fantasize about us making love, the fantasy so vivid that it almost makes him stop and ask me if I am alright.

By word or deed, I haven't erred yet. But by thought, treacherous thought, I failed my friendship.