My Happiness
I love you. There, I said it.
It's not hard to say or anything, after all of this time. Yeah, I think you know. But still, I love you. It's worth saying a thousand times. When you're asleep, when you're away (and when I have to say it over the phone), eating lunch, fucking me; all wonderful occasions to tell you that I love you.
But it's never that easy, is it?
I make it hard on you; too hard, after all of these years. I should open up more, allow you to touch some part of my soul (little, gray soul that it is) more often.
Yet the wall's still there, keeping me from saying much to you. Even after the therapy. And I've seen the inside surface of every therapist's couch in this town....
If you could look into my heart, you would see what I see every day of my life; a picture of us, loving and golden, shining. But I won't let you close enough. And I should, but I can't.
Fuck..I'm just way too worried about everything.
You shift in the bed beside me, peer up at me. Out of instinct, you puff a piece of hair away from your eyes. A braid flies down to smack you in the eye.
You squint at me and mutter, "What the fuck are you staring at?"
I cuddle up to you and place my hand against the hollow of your spine, "You." I say.
For now, that's all you need to know.