Trouble Sleeping

You see, I know that these feelings will not linger. I'm not in love, and if anything, I won't ever be in love, for it is just an excuse to hurt and get hurt.

I look at the sleeping form next to me. The man I love. No, what a queer little thing to say. The man I like. The man I enjoy spending time with. The man I enjoy talking to.

But it's so very curious how the words struggle to come out, how desperate I am to utter those words I sorely swore never to say. Those three little words, so short, so simple, yet so big and so full of meaning.

I curl up to him, ogling at him and his beautiful features, wondering how he can live with this lie. He tells me he loves me, beautiful fool. Beautiful infatuated fool. Why ever would he love a person who doesn't believe in such nonsense? Why, that's silly, in my opinion.

I remember, just as if it were yesterday, when I first told him I didn't believe in such a thing as 'love'. Yet, he didn't question me. He just smirked. Silly little thing. If it were to have been someone else, they would've canceled all their plans of coming on to me. Yet, he, so foolishly, he never gave up. He insisted, day and night. Too tired to fight his nonsense, I accepted his invitation for a coffee, nothing more, nothing less.

Yet, something about him, something I can't quite put my finger on, attracted me to him. Not love. Of course not. A certain fondness, I presume.

That same week, he called me. Not once a day, no. Not even twice, no, but three times, sometimes four times a day. And strangely enough, I liked it. Enjoyed it, really. Maybe it was the way he spoke, his voice always soothed me, the topics he spoke of interested me to no end, and let me say, every detail of his life intrigued me.

I wake up from my musing to see a smile on his soft pink lips. I restrain myself from getting closer to place a soft kiss on them, yet it's hard. It has always been this difficult. It's a forbidden pleasure, kissing him, I mean. He says it doesn't have to be, not if I let him into my heart. Silly boy, why doesn't he understand that there's no such thing as 'letting someone into my heart'?

I sigh and trace circles on his soft, heaving chest. I cannot sleep, and I blame him for this. This hasn't been the first time I've had trouble sleeping, why, no. It has happened often. But it doesn't bother me. He's holding on to me, like I'm in grave danger, and he's my knight in shining Armour. That alone is enough for me to be glad I'm missing sleep.

I sigh, again, wondering that if this isn't love, what else can it be? An infatuation, I suppose. Nothing more than a rather mindless attraction. Yet, it can't be. I've felt attractions before, and it's nothing quite like this. I look up at his face and feel myself soften, like it has happened many times before when I'm around him. "Why, you silly little mistake, how you've played with my head," I mutter.

He sniffles in his sleep, and I hear myself muttering three little words. 'I love you.'

He slowly opens his eyes to gaze at me and softly replies; 'I know, I've always known'.