Something Borrowed, Something Used
Eight
Bren and I got closing that night, we were stepping out the back door again at 1:30am.
We just stood at the corner street sign looking out into the park, without talking we both knew where we were going.
We were so tired we didn’t even bother undress as we climbed into his bed, talked a minute then fell asleep, his head on my chest. His soft brown hair sticking up and the restful look on his face seemed like an apology, telling me he’s sorry he’s not you.
It wasn’t him who fell asleep thinking about you.
It wasn’t him hating himself for not hating you.
We just stood at the corner street sign looking out into the park, without talking we both knew where we were going.
We were so tired we didn’t even bother undress as we climbed into his bed, talked a minute then fell asleep, his head on my chest. His soft brown hair sticking up and the restful look on his face seemed like an apology, telling me he’s sorry he’s not you.
It wasn’t him who fell asleep thinking about you.
It wasn’t him hating himself for not hating you.
♠ ♠ ♠
Sorry it's short, I've been really preoccupied lately so I haven't typed much up, but more soon if you leave comments!