By Megs
Date: 25 May 2000

Thoughts You Won't Hear

I wish I could say I forgot about it all as easy as it seems you did.

But I can't.

I used to think a kiss meant something.  Coming from you.  From someone who
I thought always would do the noble thing.  Which means call the next day.  Or
touch my arm and make eye contact that lasts long enough to hang palpable in the
air.

But you didn't.

I told him anyway.  Didn't want him to be the scorned lover.  The clueless man
at home warming my bed while you heated up my fantasies.  I assumed the worst.
Figured I had lost on both ends.  That he would yell.  Or worse- ignore me.

But he understood.

He held me.  Told me how much he loved me.  And that I didn't know myself well
enough to be so tangled up in him.  Explained that whatever I needed he would
give me- even if it was only space.  He kissed me so gently.  With so much love.
It made me feel that perhaps passion was only the icing.  I needed the cake.

But I chose icing.

I always choose wrong.  It is the mark of a oft-abused heart. Add your name to
the list.  Add a check mark because you were so sneaky and perfect and neat
about the whole thing.  That rather than smashing my fantasies with a sledge
hammer you nibbled out chunks of my heart slowly and made it feel good.

But it doesn't.

Seeing you.  A new baby born.  I offer insincere congratulations.  I commiserate
with similarly situated female friends.  I drink more than I should to ease the
pain and make it all seem funny when you look at the situation through the
bottom of the bottle.  I pretend I don't think about you.  I look through you.
I tell you its all good.

But its not.
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