I hate holding back. Trouble is something I do not want, but I can’t stop these words from spilling from out between my teeth, slipping through my outstretched fingers.

I love your eyes. I love your smile. And I love the way your arms feel around my shoulders.

These things, yes, I keep barred. Others, I shouldn’t. But I must. One word, then another tumbles out, then so many more, until I am completely naked, stripped of everything.

Embarrassed, pained, cold.

Is there no happy medium, I often ask. 

You are hers. I know this. Can’t I love you, too?