During sex, with my eyes closed, I trust the feel of their body, the sound of their breath, their moans, the feel of their heat against my skin, the pressure of our mouths pressed together. But our eyes meeting, for whatever reason, feels like asking everything at once:

Do you accept all of me? The girl with the messed up hair and the face that gets too red? The scared girl? The girl full of needs? The girl that likes you and imagines future dates? The girl who wants you to feel cared for? The girl who wants to feel cared for in return? … More On Keeping my Eyes Open