I’m Afraid to Kiss You

I’m afraid you’ll laugh at me.

I don’t want to come out and say, hey, the only guys I’ve ever kissed were nameless faces at a party, and I was too drunk to remember where I was, so I have no clue what I’m doing.

But I don’t want to just suck without explanation, either. I don’t want you to go home and and tell your friends about how horrible it was. I don’t even want you to think that to yourself. Because then you might never let me kiss you again. And I already know I’ll want to.

I’ve thought about when and where and how I would kiss you. Mostly I would do it anywhere. Preferably somewhere dark so you wouldn’t be able to see the color fill my cheeks when I touched you. Preferably somewhere a little cold so I’d have an excuse to hold on to you tighter.

I want to catch you by surprise. Leave you wanting more. I want to kiss you when you’re not expecting it, and then I want you to go crazy thinking about it. But for that to happen, it has to be a pretty damn good kiss. And I’m not sure I can give that to you. I don’t know how.

I’ll seduce you with beautiful words. I’ll sing you a sweet serenade. I’ll pour my heart into a cup and put it in front of you and say, here, this is all yours.

But I’m afraid to kiss you.

And I’m afraid to not kiss you, because what if I never get to kiss you? What if you slip away somehow and someone else kisses you and then it’s too late?

I don’t want to sleep with you, at least not anytime soon. I don’t even need you to fall in love with me. Because maybe you won’t fall in love with me, and that’s okay, because maybe I won’t fall in love with you either. I just want to kiss you. Probably more than once. Probably.

I would, too. I would if I weren’t afraid.

But I’m afraid to kiss you.

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