Only a few hours ago this room was alive with animated conversations, punctuated by laughter, induced by liquor.  But not now.  Now it’s still.  Quiet.  The only audible sounds are our heartbeats and the brief pauses between our breaths.  We’re standing so still, and so close that it feels like entire days have passed.  My head rests so comfortably on your chest as if it were always meant to be there.  My whole body feels warm and loose, and the only thing holding me up is you.  Now I am awkwardly aware of my hands.  Where do I put my hands?  I know where, but I’m terrified to move.   I just want you to…move first?  If you lower one hand just a little pass the small of my back and put the other one around my neck, then I’ll have permission melt into you.  I know I’ll lose myself completely in you.  And won’t that be a shame after I worked so hard to find myself in the solitude of this crowded city?

Sometimes I miss you so much that I read the words you wrote to me that day.  You said I was beautiful and smart and funny.  I feel ashamed now for craving your approval in that way.  For feeling satiated by the sentiment as if I weren’t all of those things before you told me I was.  Maybe this is why compliments make me crazy.  Suddenly, I don’t miss you so much.