I knew the rules, the engagement of us, he had a wound on his chin, he told me it was ages
he told me about her, he never spoke her name softly enough.
I sat on floors as I looked out windows, I stared for the time it took him to pull his
jeans up, I heard his fingers fumble at the button, his callouses rubbing against metal
and the quick goodbye of a zipper, and I knew it was summer, but the sun seemed to mock
me, the sun rose two hands too far for me to feel her.
“One day, one day, you'll love only me,” I whispered to myself, loud enough to break the
silence but quiet enough so he wouldn't know he had hurt me, though my tone wasn't
convincing and I could never stop the tears.
I pressed my back against pillows and sunk quietly into where he lay his head as I closed
my eyes, I made myself familiar with the fabric of blankets, the soft pattern of quilts
and discovered a new way to hide, and I hid from him so he would stay...
I would have done anything if he would just stay.
He reached over to kiss me, to touch my cheek and run his hand over the freckles no one
ever saw, he smiled for a second, for the moment it took for me to curl up into him, my
lashes tickled his arm, my tears traced over his tattoo and I found it hard to let go.
I composed myself, I looked into his eyes, I thought about how sad it was that I begged
for him even when he was right there, I stopped for a second when he opened his mouth, I
followed the trails of his breath as if they were swimming through my air, and he told me
that I was the only one who ever made him happy...
I shook my head, I blinked and found love to be ironic because the feel of him was killing
me, I kissed him, lips meeting and sins committed, and for the time it took him to walk
out my door, I turned my head and stared out my summer promising window...
just to watch him leave.