If I shut my eyes I could imagine that his lips...

If I shut my eyes I could imagine that his lips were your lips. Your warm, soft, gentle lips that moulded so perfectly with mine. The way that your lips could get the blood rushing up to my face, the love that flowed currents between us when we touched. But his lips were cold, they were hard, they weren’t yours.

With the alcohol numbing my brain I could almost fool myself that the hands on my back were yours. I remember how tightly you would hold me, pulling my body so close to you. Closer, closer, always closer. Your fingers would linger on my spine, on my hips, you would linger long enough that I began to crave you, need you, till all I could think of was you. He didn’t linger.

As my dress came off, and then the layers underneath it followed suit I could remember times with you where you made me feel like a butterfly coming slowly out of a coccoon. I would finally stand in front of you, only me, only my body, and your eyes would stare into mine. Your eyes, they were so full of pride, of love. I’m not sure if his eyes ever made it to my face.

And suddenly I found myself pulling away, ripping myself from his grip. Yanking my clothes back on. What was I thinking? This man wasn’t you. This girl wasn’t me. What happened to us?

Submitted by lifethroughthesegreeneyes