Cussedness

There are sheer amounts of it at work within me. A stubborness that hates to reveal the longing ache for the moments of sharing that connect two souls together.

Hates to admit the doubt that comes from not hearing all day from the one I love. Worries that the first expressed moment will actually make it come to pass. Better to say nothing, than to say exactly, predict, set in motion the very thing you suspect.

Has my charm faded?

Perhaps so...and if I rant about it, do I lose what dignity I have left? Do I reveal the actual hurt and pain?

And somehow it always comes out. And I always regret what I've revealed. Most often I end up hurting him right back - most of the time, I think he never knew I was hurting in the first place.

And then...I really feel like an idiot.