dear you,
i don’t want to sleep on your fucking couch without you. i don’t want to fall asleep to the sounds of your tiny tv without you. but i did these things.
your door was open, so i know the air circulating around us in our slumber was sending messages we couldn’t say when we’re face to face. i wanted so badly to say something outloud like, “i know it’s difficult. i can’t promise it’ll get better. but, if it were me, i’d treat you like the queen of the world.” alas, i cannot say these things outloud. not even when there is a wall between us. because there was that one door that was open.
just like when you ask me, “are you okay?” i keep a wall between us, and i make sure that fucking door is shut. i don’t want you peeking in and seeing the heavy, heavy truth i’m hiding from you.
yours,
me
