Always and Never
Always and Never
I hate that you never stay to tell me you love me one more time.
I hate that it’s always, “I love you, Billie.”
And then you smile, and you wave, and you leave. No goodbye. No, “I love you too. I’ll see you soon.” No last longing kiss before we have to part again.
So, today, I ask you why.
“You know I’ll always love you, Mike,” you tell me. Your smile is sweet, and it melts my heart and makes me want to kiss you again. I don’t.
“But you don’t say it.”
“It’s just kind of hard to say I love you right before going back to her... I’m sorry.” You trace circles on my chest, your finger going in smooth, rhythmical patterns trying to calm my thoughts. I don’t feel like you’re sorry. Would you let this keep happening if you were sorry? Would you switch back and forth, breaking my heart every day, while silently stabbing your wife in the back?
You’re not sorry, Billie. You’re just lonely.
I kiss you again, hoping just as much as you to banish these feelings. Your hand tangles in my already-mussed hair, and for a moment, I’m lost again. I feel you shifting slightly beneath my fingertips, feel your gentle sigh in my mouth. I love you.
You love me too, says the way you pull yourself closer to me, the way you rest your head on my chest and tangle your legs with mine. Still, your mouth is always shut. You never have anything to say when we’re alone. Just me and you. It doesn’t matter.
“It’s getting late. I should get back home.” You pull away, and I sit up reluctantly.
“Could stay the night. I’m sure she wouldn’t think anything...”
And whenever I say this, you always say, “I can’t, Mike. You know that.” I frown, silently watching you get dressed, waiting for the moment when you leave.
The final kiss. I savor the moment, lingering as long as I can. “I love you, Billie.” You smile again, beginning to pull away, but I take hold of your hand. “Don’t do this to me.”
You look back reluctantly, sit back down on the edge of the bed. You know what I meant when I said, “Don’t do this to me.”
Another kiss. Your arm wraps around me, your head resting against my shoulder. “I’ll leave her, Mike. One day. I promise.” I hug you back tightly until you pull away again. You caress my cheek softly, and my eyes implore you to stay. “Love you too,” you mutter, and suddenly, you’re gone. You pick up your things, and in only seconds, you’re out the door again. Gone to kiss your wife and sleep in your bed.
While I stay here.
Alone.
Like always.
I hate that it’s always, “I love you, Billie.”
And then you smile, and you wave, and you leave. No goodbye. No, “I love you too. I’ll see you soon.” No last longing kiss before we have to part again.
So, today, I ask you why.
“You know I’ll always love you, Mike,” you tell me. Your smile is sweet, and it melts my heart and makes me want to kiss you again. I don’t.
“But you don’t say it.”
“It’s just kind of hard to say I love you right before going back to her... I’m sorry.” You trace circles on my chest, your finger going in smooth, rhythmical patterns trying to calm my thoughts. I don’t feel like you’re sorry. Would you let this keep happening if you were sorry? Would you switch back and forth, breaking my heart every day, while silently stabbing your wife in the back?
You’re not sorry, Billie. You’re just lonely.
I kiss you again, hoping just as much as you to banish these feelings. Your hand tangles in my already-mussed hair, and for a moment, I’m lost again. I feel you shifting slightly beneath my fingertips, feel your gentle sigh in my mouth. I love you.
You love me too, says the way you pull yourself closer to me, the way you rest your head on my chest and tangle your legs with mine. Still, your mouth is always shut. You never have anything to say when we’re alone. Just me and you. It doesn’t matter.
“It’s getting late. I should get back home.” You pull away, and I sit up reluctantly.
“Could stay the night. I’m sure she wouldn’t think anything...”
And whenever I say this, you always say, “I can’t, Mike. You know that.” I frown, silently watching you get dressed, waiting for the moment when you leave.
The final kiss. I savor the moment, lingering as long as I can. “I love you, Billie.” You smile again, beginning to pull away, but I take hold of your hand. “Don’t do this to me.”
You look back reluctantly, sit back down on the edge of the bed. You know what I meant when I said, “Don’t do this to me.”
Another kiss. Your arm wraps around me, your head resting against my shoulder. “I’ll leave her, Mike. One day. I promise.” I hug you back tightly until you pull away again. You caress my cheek softly, and my eyes implore you to stay. “Love you too,” you mutter, and suddenly, you’re gone. You pick up your things, and in only seconds, you’re out the door again. Gone to kiss your wife and sleep in your bed.
While I stay here.
Alone.
Like always.