History on the Skin
Lassiter/Shawn
PG-13
165 Words
Your touch lingers on my skin long after I leave you, warm in my bed, a welcoming weight after some many nights spent alone.
You are always so warm, whereas I often find my hands chilled at the end of the day.
We don't talk about this thing between us; it's better that way. I still find you annoying, you still find me uptight, and that hasn't changed, not after months of spending free days with each other in bed, our hands touching each other everywhere and nowhere, exploring and mapping out as ours.
I think of you as mine, though I have never said as much to you. I hope you feel the same way, but I'm not naïve.
I'm not hopelessly in love with you and all that romantic garbage.
Except for when I am, and the knowledge that you may not be mine- that you may not feel the same way- is a bitter taste in my mouth.
I've been here before.