In Your Room

I’m lying on your fold-out couch while you snore on an air mattress on the floor. How did I end up here? You are kind to put up with me — and to put me up. Especially knowing my longing for you.

Everything we have been taught about men is false. I desire you and you let me stay, because I have nowhere else to go, and you have rules.

No talking after lights out. That one is hard. When it’s dark, and the city sounds pour in through the open window, and you’re looking at your phone two inches away from from me, I want to talk quietly. About the incidents of the day. Plans for tomorrow. Books. Memories. Feelings. Inside jokes.

But talking in the dark is too intimate, and so you have this rule.

You were always excellent at setting boundaries.

That’s what drew me to you.

Now, compelled by kindness to let me stay, you draw up boundaries that leave me in no doubt of your honor. Honor and indifference.

Everything we have been taught about men is false.

I can rely on you.

In your room I am lonely, but safe.

Lulled by the city sounds from outside and your breathing, eventually I sleep. I dream of a time when you look at me differently. An impossible time that will never come. You have told me so. A time when I feel surrounded by love and a warm atmosphere of comprehension — in your room.

(Visited 473 times, 1 visits today)

Note: ONLY sensitive comments will be approved.