Never Would Have Guessed

Thousands of tiny ants marching up and down their rough calloused exterior, my hands twitch. No, I am not Indiana Jones, caught at last, I remind myself. The relief is only momentary as the pain spreads up my arms, blowing like a wildfire, fanned by the absence of fuel, driven on by my heartbeat. They itch and twitch and jerk about, flailing like Steph, no weight to keep them down.

However uncomfortable it was, digging into my skin, I wouldn't trade that feeling for anything. However uncomfortable is was, burning and melting my skin away, I wouldn't trade that feeling for anything. However uncomfortable it was, cricking my neck, I wouldn't trade that feeling for anything.

I wouldn't trade that feeling for anything.
I wouldn't trade that feeling.
I wouldn't.

In my own way [for what that's worth], I guess I'm just expressing this constant need [it's burning, tearing me apart]. It's a lot less sweet than yours [like a cool glass of lemonade in June] but that's my fault [it is], I planned it this was [did it work?]. I know you'll see this [milliseconds after I post it] and think that it's cute [just might explode] but I [love you] want the suspense [oh the drama] to build [watch out watch out] until [finally] I [really do] explode [ ]:

My arms, my legs, my hands, my lap, my head, my elbow, my shoulder, they're all aching because you're not here in them, as close as we can get without being each other. If I could spend every moment as we did that one, sadly knowing that things would soon change with a gust of air and a click and a goodbye, the bullet to my breast, I would gladly take that bullet a million times over, and then trillions more. The softest newborn, straight from the womb, does not compare to the rough fabric of yours on mine, at least when we're in them.

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Boom.