the smell of your cologne

I smelled your cologne the other night. I probably imagined it, but it reminded me of that comfortable space between your ear and your shoulder where I fit so perfectly.

I dance with my thoughts at night. On my stomach, on my back, my hands under the pillow. And just like that choreographed dance class we promised we would take one day, my bed becomes a dance floor.

All the thoughts I’m too afraid to say out loud are doing a carefully choreographed dance with the voice in my head wishing to just fall asleep and forget.

One step, two step, three step…

Forget about how it felt so right yet so terrible all at once. Forget my indecisiveness.

Let’s go back to being kids again. Daydreaming of beautiful romances and knights in shining armor.

Five, six, seven, eight…

Yet I wonder what he’s doing. Is he thinking of me too?

I know what I have to do.