Why don’t I trust my body?
When I felt comfortable with you, why didn’t I believe that I was actually in love?
I didn’t believe the touch of the hand or my head resting on your shoulder.
Or when you lifted me off the ground so we could dance.
It’s as if my body is a young girl, unreliable.
I have to wait for my brain to do its calculations, for my feelings to be translated into words.
They say that words are binding. Then what about touch?
An embrace?
Aren’t they binding too?
Wouldn’t they constitute an oath, a pact, that is more noble, stronger, and more beautiful than any word?