It must be the way he held out his arms to me the other night... the way he whispers things during sex... that LOOK he gives me right before we climax... it must be SOMETHING that keeps me coming back for more. Because as much as I have tried so hard to convince myself that I really like him (and in a way, I do), it always seems as if I'm staring at him across veils of thick ocean fog-- I can see his outline, but the rest is a mystery. He leaves me something left to be desired... and I'm never quite sure what that something is. Maybe one night soon, when I wake up choking in the dusty, burning night, reeling from my thoughts of his flesh pressed against mine, his voice throbbing in my ear.... maybe then I'll figure it out. In the meantime, I'll continue this silly, awkward dance of life, and pray that he can only give me the same.