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I'd make you happy, if you weren't already

To tell you the truth, I'd prefer the worst of you.

I wish I could tell her. If only she knew. I think that might change things. Right now, we're just friends. Just friends that make love. I doubt she sees it that way, but the way she smells inxoicates me, the softness of her skin, the pinkness of her lips, her hair, and each time I touch her, I am shocked by the way it sends dizzy spells through my body. Her body. God. It's so beautiful. Every time I see her, look into her pale blue eyes, I just want to scream it. Shake her, make her see how much she means to me. I LOVE YOU, SARAH! I love you. I love the way you arch your back when I cup your breasts, run my fingers down the small of your back and up your thighs, into the wetness. I love the way you reach back and grab handfuls of my hair and breathe heavily, I love the way you roll over on top of me and kiss my stomach, my breasts. The way you suck on my lip and earlobes, biting every so often, the way you lick my neck and down my chest, the way you bury your face into me and I love the way you come up and kiss me afterwards. I love the way you taste, the way you move, the way your hair falls into your eyes and you look at me as if you're just asking me to brush it away. I love the way we fall asleep, curled up into each other like babies, our bare skin touching. God, she is so perfect. So beautiful.

She is my best friend. The contrast between our days and nights is overwhelming. Sometimes we can't help ourselves, at school we sneak into the bathroom and make love as quickly as possible, but when we come out we are nothing but giggling best friends who do each other's hair rather than drink each other's come. I do her hair, that much is true. I play with it, grab handfuls and tug, the way she does with mine. The difference is that I love her, and she doesn't love me.

My mother senses something. She asks me how she and I can be so close yet so distant. She asks about the way I look at her. I tell her it's because I admire her. It would break her heart if I told her that I am in love with her, in a way so different than how it breaks mine.

I have come to need her. She is laying next to me now, sleeping so soundly. She mesmerizes me.

Goodnight Sarah. Sarah friend, Sarah lover, Sarah owner of my heart.