I Wasn’t Ready

You were my “seventh grade crush”. I never dreamed that things would get this intense between us. We spoke for days, and finally decided to meet. I arrive at your house, not ready to commit to anything that I don’t want to do – yet I do. You lead me inside and hold me close, lead me up the stairs to your bed where we lay down and talk. Apparently, you have everything planned – you stand up and light the candles at the foot of your bed, and then lay back down next to me. Just having your arms around me is enough for me; but you want more – you always seem to want more from me. You lay me down on your black sheets, moving ever so gently – removing every item of clothing from each of our bodies until we lay naked, pressing our bodies against each other. I’m petrified; I’ve never actually gone this far with a guy before, yet you continue on. I’m petrified (I’m not ready to have kids) “Trust me”, you say. (I’ll be letting everyone dear around me down if anything does happen to me) “Trust me”, you say. So I trust you and try to let you inside – but you can’t get in. So I leave, we talk again, and I return once more; but this time only to cuddle and talk. But once again, you want more; and once again, I give in and once again, you cannot get inside. You’re upset, but I’m glad. (I wasn’t ready). I have plans and goals, and they do not include “excess baggage”. I wuv you dearie (but I wasn’t ready). You continue to thank me, although I do not know what for. We smile, hug and kiss, and I leave – all the while thinking, “I wasn’t ready – I’m not ready”, and I smile to myself knowing that there is still a chance for me to fulfill my dreams and follow through on everyone of my goals without any worries – because I wasn’t ready.