New stuff for me, never done a QAF piece before. This is really just an attempt to coax my muse back from Cambodia and the $1 lobster. Hope it works.
Disclaimer: I don't own the fabulous show Queer As Folk. If I did, hehehe, you really don't want to know what I would do to them.
Warning: Slight yaoi, nothing explicit. Mild language. Don't like? Don't read.
Pretending
I know he doesn't love me. Not like you do. But he says he does. He makes me feel the empty words, so I can pretend.
You always knew just what to say. Which words would hurt the most. The tears flow in rivers. It's your vindication. I'm just a twink you fucked once.
But that's not quite right is it? No, you fucked me more than once. Taught me all I know. Let me top you, the legendary Stud of Liberty Street, begging like a girl.
Harder.
Deeper.
More.
And you still deny. Deny my love. Yours. Everyone's.
I know he doesn't love me. Not like you do. I know you love me. I do. Or at least I thought I did. Told myself over and over, fucking disillusioning myself into thinking that one day, one day you would give up tricking, and stay with me. I'm still doing it, aren't I?
Only you. That's all I ever wanted. Not to have to share you with a hundred faceless men, only you. All I ever needed. I don't want your pitiful words, I know they mean nothing coming out of your precious lips. Actions speak louder than words, yours always did.
Remember the scarf?
All you had to do was stay. Have one pitiful fucking picnic with me, for once in your goddamn life, think of something other than getting laid. But you didn't stay. You were to scared.
So I went. To him. And his pretty words. His words that lie, but they lie like I want them to.
I know he doesn't love me. Not like you do. But I would rather listen to his lying lips, then stay and die every time you tell the truth.