I like some of this.
When you lean over me, your arms framing my torso like an old painting from behind. I like the looming presence of you, it feels protective. Not that I need it, but I like it.
When you touch my hair, my thigh, just for some contact. You pet me like a dog, not a slow caress. It’s funny and strange and leaves me wanting something a little more, slower. Sometimes it makes me want to laugh. I like these things.
I like when your brow furrows, almost in pain, but I know it’s pleasure, you’ve told me. I like that a lot. I like your dark eyes, and your gentle hands. I like that you make yourself at home.
I like that you noticed which mug is my favorite. I like that you share tasks: make coffee, and dinner, and do the dishes. That’s nice, I’d almost stopped expecting that. I had stopped expecting that. I don’t like when you pretend you don’t do these things for me, like they’re just something you do anyway. Both can be true.
I don’t like feeling like a placeholder. I don’t like knowing sometimes you’re imagining you’re doing these things with someone else, or could have been, should have been, whatever. I guess I do the same thing, but I still don’t like it.
I like when you talk about things that interest you in depth, I don’t like that you do this when you don’t know what to say. I like that you reach out, that you bid for repair after difficult topics. I don’t like that I need time and silence and don’t quite know how to say that yet.
I like that you’re trying, I like that you’re wary. You should be wary. I like not really knowing you yet, I like you not really knowing me yet. I like the lightness of it all. I like the exploration, the fumbling and bumbling. I don’t like that it feels like you think emotional connection and attachment are the same. I like liking you as a friend, too.
I like that you’ve fallen into othering yourself, you’ve leaned in instead of away. I like that you’re not opposed to connection, that you are not too guarded to see the beauty and potential of it all. I like that you’re working and trying. I like that our attachment styles aren’t too terribly complimentary. I like that we both understand this. I like that you speak your fears, even with a harsh delivery.
I really like when you lean over me from behind, your arms framing me, mouth near my ear. I like your dark eyes. I like the not knowing what it means or where it’s going. I like that you make yourself at home.