You took my hand between your own. I fought you once again. Tried to ignore the new sensation of touching your rough skin. I felt a buzz, a jump, a shock when my hand was within yours. I curled my fingers to a fist and your eyes, tried to ignore. You looked at me in wonder. I fought hard for the screen. I laugh in a somewhat random place. Somehow it sounded mean. You’re really not going to answer? My jaw clenches to hold firm. You didn’t feel that? Now, I’m starting to squirm. Well, I felt it. Okay, stop. You’re playing way too fair. I didn’t give an answer, but yours hung in the air. Your hand just lay there. Open. I just tried not to see. I just tried not to show, what your words, they do to  me.

How could I not feel that? Is this even real life? There’s no way that you don’t know how deep in me you slice. I want it though I know it’s bad. Still, you’re the best I’ve ever had. You court and you volley and you twinkle those eyes. I said that wasn’t working; last night, that was a lie. You joke and you laugh and you give me your all. And I do some of what I should, and I’m tempted with the fall. Just step off the cliff, it’s only 50 feet. It’s still a cliff! You just calmly repeat. I can’t. I can’t. I know where danger lies. But the fun, and the laughs, held inside those deep brown eyes. And the flicker is a flame, and I’m blowing on it slow. I see it jump, I know I scream, and I turn tail and go.

I told you I was running. I’m a bolter, deep at heart. And it’s easier to run with you playing the part. I would have run without you, indeed, I already had. But the good in you was good and the bad had packed its bags. You gave me such escape, you know. And I’m glad of that, no doubt. But the answer to, “Did you feel that?” would have left me no out. I’m a runner and I know it. Runner’s high is just my game. But I should have never started, to tickle with your flame.

The blow came swift at 8 am, the harshest thing you’ve said. And the wondering, “Did you feel that?” keeps running, in my head.