|Airborne by Charlotte Wilde|
I can't stop looking into your eyes. I mean, it's been what, six weeks since we hung out, and I can tell you that I woke up a hundred times, feeling like I had been looking into your eyes.
You ain't gonna really get this, but I could smell you from 3000 miles away. I could hear your dress moving when you walked through the room, and that sound your pantyhose makes when you cross and uncross your legs.
-You know, you get really serious-looking when I talk to you sometimes. That little patch of skin right at the base of your neck glows bright red, and I haven't even touched you yet.
Anyway, I can smell you. You have a smell. I mean, I like your perfume. It's nice. Pretty sure you paid a lot of money for it, but your smell is something different entirely. That's all you. And I can tell you something else; when I'm around you, especially when I'm close to you, that smell gets stronger. And you can't begin to hide it from me. I don't think you want to...
When you first backed into me I thought I was going to bite through my tongue. I was trapped like a rat. 180 passengers in a single-file line right aft of me and three rows of seats on either side. I'd almost made it off that plane, and you had to do that. Five hours with you had been hard enough, but I'd managed to be a good boy. Or at least act like one. But that was too much. Some circumstances just don't leave you time enough to think...
But what I can't fucking believe I'm getting' ready to tell you, is that I can't do this. I mean, I can. But I don't.. .want...to... enough. Shit. I'm not getting this across; I WANT to, and I CAN , but I think,... I love my wife! Now, don't laugh at me, I just never expected it. I didn't understand that that's why people are the way they are when it works. I think maybe I thought they just didn't have opportunities.
I mean I, right now I, I just want to go and put my head in her lap and... cry out how sorry I am to my precious, best friend in the whole world, and I've never even laid a finger on you. And I simply can't believe I'm saying that.
Listen, I'm sorry, I gotta go. I gotta,...
I gotta go home... I miss my wife.