His hands tangle my fingers within his and we sigh together. He opens the
door ahead of me, allows me to walk inside. Our steps are soft, reflecting
our silent attitudes.
I know he's upset. The same frown he's had for hours now hasn't been altered. Pasted into his face; two eyes reflecting nothing of difference now.
Apologizing with sorry upon sorry the entire night, just to let him now how awful I felt. And it wasn't just feeling bad to me; it was betraying the one I stand next to.
He releases my hand. My eyes climb from the floor, eager to see his expression. I expect the same blank picture I've been threatened with all evening. But his eyes are cast down, deep into the mist between the floor and us. I can't see what he's thinking.
I moan a heavy sigh, shrugging my coat off and slipping it to the sofa. My arms ache with every pain I have managed to drag out tonight. Eyes worn away at their sides call to me, making the sound of sleep an aspiration of mine. Everything taunts me as he wanders around the apartment, his feet treading softly. I don't know what he's looking for, what he's doing, what he's thinking.
I contemplate each possible scenario that comes to me.
He wants to leave me. For tonight, he wants out. I have pushed him over, and he thinks that I'm giving up on us. The last thing I would want to do right now. I could never act that way.
I stare at him, hoping that he'll hear my unspoken explanation.
I'm not giving up.
However, he walks into another room. Sulking away without a glance over to where I stand. I sit instead, escaping into dull comfort of two couch cushions, my coat shaded over my knees. I glide one finger over the leather of it, pondering why we can't talk right now.
His feet trudge again, the barren symbolization of it all getting to me. Every bleak step, filled with each feeling we're both sharing now hits me with force. I struggle to be the strong one here, wishing I could speak to him.
Remarkably, as the strong one, I find it his job to talk first. I'm sure of it.
The footsteps stop. My head tilts upward, eyes resting in sync with his. Across the living room he stands there in front of me. My distressing look sits with his in the air between us. We breathe together, waiting for one of us to move.
He walks first, coming up to me and kneeling there, before the couch where I sit. His hands cover my arms where they've fallen over the material of my coat.
"I'm sorry," he whispers. Palms ride up my arms as I wait for more. I don't expect more to come, but he keeps. "It's just that."
I volunteer. "I know."
"I'm scared," he says, his hands on my shoulders now. "I need to be here, and all of these other things -"
"No," I say, my head shaking slightly. "You don't need to take care of me."
He bows his head and puts his lips to my hand, a tender kiss felt throughout my body.
"I love you," my lips make. "And I'll take care of you."
--
Boredom. Its fun.
manda
I know he's upset. The same frown he's had for hours now hasn't been altered. Pasted into his face; two eyes reflecting nothing of difference now.
Apologizing with sorry upon sorry the entire night, just to let him now how awful I felt. And it wasn't just feeling bad to me; it was betraying the one I stand next to.
He releases my hand. My eyes climb from the floor, eager to see his expression. I expect the same blank picture I've been threatened with all evening. But his eyes are cast down, deep into the mist between the floor and us. I can't see what he's thinking.
I moan a heavy sigh, shrugging my coat off and slipping it to the sofa. My arms ache with every pain I have managed to drag out tonight. Eyes worn away at their sides call to me, making the sound of sleep an aspiration of mine. Everything taunts me as he wanders around the apartment, his feet treading softly. I don't know what he's looking for, what he's doing, what he's thinking.
I contemplate each possible scenario that comes to me.
He wants to leave me. For tonight, he wants out. I have pushed him over, and he thinks that I'm giving up on us. The last thing I would want to do right now. I could never act that way.
I stare at him, hoping that he'll hear my unspoken explanation.
I'm not giving up.
However, he walks into another room. Sulking away without a glance over to where I stand. I sit instead, escaping into dull comfort of two couch cushions, my coat shaded over my knees. I glide one finger over the leather of it, pondering why we can't talk right now.
His feet trudge again, the barren symbolization of it all getting to me. Every bleak step, filled with each feeling we're both sharing now hits me with force. I struggle to be the strong one here, wishing I could speak to him.
Remarkably, as the strong one, I find it his job to talk first. I'm sure of it.
The footsteps stop. My head tilts upward, eyes resting in sync with his. Across the living room he stands there in front of me. My distressing look sits with his in the air between us. We breathe together, waiting for one of us to move.
He walks first, coming up to me and kneeling there, before the couch where I sit. His hands cover my arms where they've fallen over the material of my coat.
"I'm sorry," he whispers. Palms ride up my arms as I wait for more. I don't expect more to come, but he keeps. "It's just that."
I volunteer. "I know."
"I'm scared," he says, his hands on my shoulders now. "I need to be here, and all of these other things -"
"No," I say, my head shaking slightly. "You don't need to take care of me."
He bows his head and puts his lips to my hand, a tender kiss felt throughout my body.
"I love you," my lips make. "And I'll take care of you."
--
Boredom. Its fun.
manda