The Guilty

Guilt over you overwhelms me in a crashing landslide of heated cheeks and sinking feelings. And every time we sit in the green tinged dark and my skin is next to yours, I think about how horrifying I am and how incredible you are and the fact you know next to nothing about me but the little thing I told you and you still chose to hold me that night. How I long to be hollow on the inside and light as feather and you said, “Why didn’t you…” and I couldn’t say why because you will never understand the ethereal feeling of empty. But you still held me that night. You still ran your hands across my skin and gently kissed me and brushed my hair from my face and pet me.  And for all that I feel guilty. There’s so much more you could know about me and I think you’d regret every night you’ve spent in my bed if you knew the decline in my soul to the withered husk it is. Perhaps now I’m filled with more life than I ever was before, but there’s still the gaping hole of loneliness and sadness that overcomes me sometimes and turns me into the dead thing I was before. And for someone like you who’s only had one person, I feel so guilty that person is me. You deserve someone more together, more whole, than the girl you found the first night of college at the crazy meet and greet in the dark. The one who made a secret handshake with you and laughed when ours was the lamest of them all. The girl who saw you later on at a party and talked for a while and you made her laugh at all the dumb things freshman do. The one who took you with her the next night and we stumbled back to my room after, a little more than tipsy, to sit on my bed and talk for hours with me begging you in my head to kiss me! Kiss me you fool! Until we collapsed under the covers and fell asleep, only to wake up a few hours later to our lips touching and bodies tangled with each other. And soon your hands wandered over me and explored who I was until your alarm went off at 7 am and you turned it off and went right back to making me feel like I was living in some other dimension. And the next night was the same, with us stumbling back to my room and this time I pulled off my shirt and slipped out of my panties and let you look at me, completely bared and you beckoned me to your arms and that is the point where I almost, almost wish I could take this all back because I’m not a nice person and I might end up breaking you and I think I might be attached to you because you’re definitely attached to me. And I think I killed your innocence, in fact I know I did, so that’s why I feel horribly guilty every time your fingers brush my skin. But I certainly won't stop you from doing it because I think we both know that I am selfish. So you continue to keep me up each night and I'll continue feeling guilty.