Damn.

We sit on the couch, laughing softly at something random and unimportant, the slow sensual groove of jazz playing in the background. Outside my window, the world silently slumbers in the pitch black of night. We share a moment, and then another, and then another until the entire few hours we have spent with each other is crammed with nothing but Almosts-missed moments that seem to deliberately recur to tempt and tantalize us with suggestion.

So near and yet so far. We sit a hairbreadth away, a whisper of a touch from each other. And as I stare into his eyes, my thoughts have already wandered off, mapping a path on a landscape of flesh my fingers long to travel on.

I've made love to him in my mind without even kissing him.
I've kissed him in my head without ever holding his hand.
I've lost my mind without meaning to.
I've fallen without ever taking a step.

Dawn approaches in the distance. With the chilly breath of early morning comes his time to leave me. We get up, and I walk him to the door. We pause for a moment, the air thick with What Ifs and Why Can'ts. Then he smiles, the way he often does at me. With a quiet goodbye, he nods and his body brushes against mine for a split second as he makes his way out.

I find myself in bed alone, and fall asleep with my mind picking up from where we had left off. I play it out in my head, knowing that whatever I imagine cannot even come close to how it could really be.

Falling for someone who already has someone is a bitch.