Aftertaste

This is the new us. We're now friends nothing more. He helps me sending out cv's to get Christmas jobs, and I'm helping out with...well, nothing really... Looking gorgeous so he'll never forget me, I guess. Ha ha ha.

Jokes aside. We've decided to take it slow. He was so hurt by my drunken antics. He nearly cried trying to talk to me. I did remind him about what he did, and that I decided to give him a second chance, and he agreed. I felt really bad, but so did he. He said that he only said what he said as a reaction to what I'd done. And that he wants to be my friend. That he cares for me.

But I'm hurting still. I can't stand not touching him. But this is what we get for playing with fire. This is what we get for playing with our friendship. This is what we get for playing with our emotions. This is the aftertaste of letting passion run our lives.

I know he feels the same way. I know, though he hasn't told me with words. I can see it in his eyes. And I know we will probably fall into the same trap again. Until he leaves.