Do you hear this?
Are you listening?
The way you looked at me today makes me wonder. But I am not afraid of you. I'm afraid of me and afraid of him for letting me stay and afraid of them for what they might do to us.
Will you tell them?
Do you dare?
I wonder how much you know. I wonder how much you care. I wonder if you hear this. My heartbeat sounds loud to me. His heartbeat sounds loud to me. Do you hear the mattress creak? I hope he is asleep. I hope he doesn't dream of me. When he's awake he cries. Have you heard him cry? He tries to stop the sound which makes it even louder but it's not so much the sound that tells me that he's crying as it is the way his body shakes so slightly, so precisely, so perfectly.
He's asleep.
Do you hear him breathing, soft and deep and steady? Always steady. This is why I'm lying here beside him. I am going in a million different directions, tearing myself apart, and he is the only thing that's steady.
Do you hear me slide his glasses off? He forgets to take them off so often.
Silly.
When he's asleep, I like to stroke his face. His skin is so soft beneath my fingers. I used to think old skin would be rough from so many expressions and so many winds and so many years, but his skin is so soft.
I wonder why.
I think it's because he cries so much.
Silly.
Do you hear my guilty heart beat faster because I'm thinking about how that skin would feel against my lips? But I do not test it. That skin is not for me, my lips. He is his own and I want to be his, but you cannot make someone love you.
Do you hear the blankets shift as I lie back down inches from his shoulder? I want to press my nose against his steady rising, falling arm. But I do not dare it.
What do you dare?
What do you hear?
What will you tell them?
What will they do to me when you tell them what you've heard?
Will they take me away from him? Will they take him away from me? Will they make sure that our paths never cross, that he is gone when I am here and I am here when he is far, far away? Will they lecture me, as if that would help, tell me to find some other way, some other person? They can tell me he is his own and I am my own, not his, but you cannot stop someone from being in love.
Is that what you want?
Is that what I want?
Maybe, but I cannot answer until I am in one place and not a million and he is more forceful and not so soft. But he will always be soft to me; it's a trap we made for each other so we cannot escape we. Do you hear we, the we you aren't part of?
We are we and you are there and there is listening to things you may not want to hear.
I promise I won't. I promise. One millionth of me is trying to keep from bringing this all to nothing like it used to be but I promise the other nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine of me are doing the best they can to make we mean what it always has and give you nothing to listen to.
I wonder if it bothers you.
I wonder if we keep you up at night, listening.
I wonder- how soft is your skin, Marie?
Are you listening? Do you hear me whisper,
"Please, don't tell, don't tell, don't tell."
Please, don't tell, don't tell.
Don't tell.
The only thing they could do is kill me for sinning.
Did you know love is a sin?
And I might like it better that way.
Do you hear him breathing?
Please don't tell.
He's shaking.
Do you hear this? Are you listening? Do you know what this sound is?
This is the sound of a secret.