Body Shame (from my laptop)

Did you ever wonder why I would behave the way I would when you got too close to me?

I know I always pushed for more, more love, more closeness, more knowing of each other. I wanted it.
I wanted you to know me better than anyone else in this world knew me. I wanted the feel of your hand close to me. I wanted the touch of your body on my skin like a flowing water. I wanted it all, I wanted you. I pushed you to it, I would ask for more, more, more.

Stop.

I would make you stop. Make myself stop. Shy away. I would pull my body into myself.

Why would I do this? Why would I ask, beg, push for so much more and then when I got close to what I wanted, pull away?

You always asked my that. We were never shy of asking questions. You, Me, You and I, we, us. Questions were never a problem. Answers though, that was a little more difficult. You asked why all the time. Constantly. Pleading with me, wanting me so much, as much as I wanted you. My answers never seemed true enough. Only now do I realize why, and it was because the weren't.

I would let you so close to me, so very very close. You were so lovely to me, your body, your scent, your strength, and the desire coming across your skin to where I could feel, at the lightest touch, how much you wanted me.

I desired you. I needed your touch. I wanted to feel you where no one had the privilege to go. I wanted you to have a part of me that no one else would have. I wanted that secret between us.

Embarrassment. Shyness. Shame.

I always told you that I had made a promise to not let anyone have that part of me, and I had, made the promise I mean. I fully intended to keep it as well. However, that promise did not entail certain things, and I still would not let you near those other things.

Once I did. I let you get to me. I was so caught up in the moment and I was determined to get passed my barriers. I let you go there. It was amazing. Though, still, something was wrong. I had to pull away. I couldn't stand your touch anymore.

It wasn't you, or your skin, or your look, or your smell. It was me, my shame, my embarrassment. I couldn't stand you to know that much of me because I was afraid of my flaws. I was afraid of my imperfection. I had wanted to be the perfect angel you dreamed of. I wasn't. My body, not what I wanted it to be, not what I wanted you to know me as.

I knew you had already been there, I knew you knew, I knew you were already aware. Still, I had to stop it, shy away before my shame enveloped me again.

I wanted you. I wanted you more than you could ever imagine. You were the most important thing to me in the world and I wanted to share so much of myself with you. However, some emotions can simply take control. I didn't want to let them have me before you did, but they did. I lost the battle.

Shame.
Embarrassment.
Shyness.

That is what held me. You know now.