Confession

I am a fool.

I needed to know that it was real, I suppose. That what my heart was telling me was right.

I am like a beaten dog. Flinching at your hand. I know that it’s not meant to hurt. I know that when I curl around your back at night it’s plain what I feel.

When did I get cheap with words?

Since I can’t seem to say them out loud, I will say them here in the quiet dark of confession. Hush though. Don’t startle me.

I liked you from the moment you tapped my newspaper. Invaded my space.

I crave your skin when not here. If I close my eyes, I can map the scar on your belly. (The smooth of which I find like a secret trail in your skin.)

I like how you can’t stay still when I kiss the point where your hip meets your torso.

Or how you snore too loud. (I have learned to give you a little shove so you are quiet.) I think your pillow obsession is cute… not annoying. When you are not in my bed, I don’t sleep as well as when you are there. I leave your side untouched…. As though, even in my sleep, I feel your absence.

I enjoy doing things for you. Bringing you little gifts. Like offerings to someplace sacred. Something to appease the ache inside. When you bring me things, it makes me shy. Silliness, I know.

What we do hardly seems to matter. Have you noticed? How even reading the paper together in a dingy little Mexican place is not awkward. That when I look up at you I think you are beautiful. Just you. Messy, disorganized, shoe hoarder. You.

Thank you for being the one to not be “chicken”. Thank you for being braver than me. How odd it is, really. That you, the least experienced in this, would be the one to come clean… to be real. And me, to be so cruel with your sentiment.

I don’t care if this is going to end. Right now, at this moment… I can’t contain myself. I am no longer able to be stoic and barren. I want to quit flinching.

I missed you all day today.

I wanted to see you tonight, not because I could… but because I wanted to. Because I wanted to just have you there. To just… be. It could have been washing the car… it could have been curling up in bed. Anything….

I feel silly, terribly silly. Exhilerated. Brave.

Real.

What does it matter, the fractions of things. Am I a little drunk? No, I am drunk. There are no half measures… there is only to move forward. To be terribly, sloppy drunk. (ha)

I don’t care, J. I don’t care one bit.

All I know, is today… I realized that it began while I was not watching for it to. And I don’t want to keep it as my secret.

I love you, already. (A little bit? Who cares how much.) It’s better to face myself than to be a fool.

What comes next? I don’t know. But I am sure it’s more…..

G.