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I don’t know about you, but I was blinded by your beautiful brown skin lost in the dark, as you sat right on top my shaky thighs. Caught in our birthday suit and moment as we watched time pause and in this brief moment we found solace in our dwindling strength and our tireless love. I laid on that bed with both hands beneath my head, as I searched for your eyes in the dark. I remember trying not to convince myself that this could eventually be the most memorable event that I would ever experience in my entire life—being loved by the woman I adore. And for long nothing has come close to proving me right.
This, I mean this moment, had less to do with what we did, and more of how we felt because for the first time I saw in you everything that made me fall in love with you. And for the first time, you felt loved, because you confessed those very same words to me. Sadly, those were your only words I ever believed.
I could recall the night not starting as planned. We were arguing about something I’ve longed suspected but played down. Call it the love syndrome, or whatever, but you could sense the jealousy that lingered in the air, intoxicating and disgusting at the same time, with a million and one questions dying to be answered. I thought I had loved the biggest mistake, and you never went out of your way to prove me wrong. While I sat by the corner of the bed, trying to drench myself in alcohol, so I could, by all means, rid myself of the knowledge that we indeed traveled miles to this fancy hotel, just so we could rekindle the fire that was once so bright…you trapped yourself in your own mind with the truth I already knew (or suspecting).
you say I’m crazy, b’cause you don’t think I know what you’ve done, but when you call me baby,I know I’m not the only one
Those were the lyrics to the song I played loud enough to meet your ears, and torture your weary heart, as we laid side by side with our backs facing each other. At least they were doing something we both didn’t have the stomach to do. While I fought the urge to touch you, and the pain in my chest, I couldn’t help but regret some of the poor decisions I had made in my little time as a person, of which you standout. And I state here that it was never about what you did, but what you hide from me.
I remember this all starting as a sick game of me trying to get your skirt. I remember you saying, ‘so it’s just sex?’, and I with some deep-rooted lie about wanting something more. I remember representing the same question by asking what you wanted, and like me, you wanted something more. Probably a lie, but we were ready to give it a try.
No matter how bad I try to make you look or I feel, I knew you were good to me, and you indeed loved me. Most times your indecision and poor choices had a way of making a mess of it all, and I never really judged you for that, because those were the very same thing, unfortunately, that made me fall in love with you because they reminded me of myself.
I can’t recount how beautiful the last few months have been, but I do remember, vividly, lying next to you on that bed, with my pillow soaking wet, crying silently, when you hopped on me with her hands carefully placed on lips before I could make sense or a word of my feelings. I could only but–
‘—hush.’
‘But how can—’
‘—just hush, okay. We can talk about this tomorrow, but for now, let’s enjoy the moment.’ so you said.
And I did.
My greatest mistake. Things were never the same afterwards. The taste of your skin on my lips as a painful reminder. As I cowardly search for your eyes in all the darkness for some clarity. I found myself staring at a lie I will for long accept.