2010-10-04
lie with me
I miss you when it gets dark, as I lie alone. We lied together, and now I lie by myself. I much prefer the shared deception, because in its feigned meaning, it was still undeniably intimate. I, a professed lover of truth, am secretly delving in the memory of our savory lie. In the most silent, raw moments of the night, the thought of your warmth seeps through the thin veil of my asserted independence and fortitude. It is a sham, it's not real. But I let the lie sweep over me, desperate to feel you again. The pale, faint recollection of your breath hovers in the air upon my skin.
Your soft exhale into my neck, your arm wrapped around my body, a tight and steady hold. Your chest upon my shoulder blade, the sound of your heartbeat against my back.
You squeeze me in, pressing me firmly to you, and for these quickly passing hours that we lie together, I'm not alone. I'm not so far away from everyone; I don't have to relish in fleeting eye contact with my lukewarm acquaintances, don't have to desperately bask in the faded light of a stranger's smile that happens to land on me. With you, I don't want conversation, I don't want to play the game where we gradually reveal our pasts and personalities to one another, trying to present ourselves in the most appealing yet most honest ways. It is a deceptive closeness; I don't know you, at all. And the real truth is, I'm not concerned with your flaws or your virtues, only the touch of your skin against mine. It's something more visceral than knowledge. And I just want to lose myself in it, waste the precious hours lying with you. But shit gets complicated and real. Lies catch up to you, the truth comes out eventually. And so you're not here, and when I lie alone, when my loneliness is given full reign to lurk in the quietude afforded by the darkness, I still miss you, and I just wish we could evade the truth, together.
leesah-likes at 1:16 p.m.