It is so hard laying here next to you, not to feel a thing. You tell me I look sad–I laugh and smile despite my eyes that tell an entirely different story full of questions and hesitation. I keep up the playful banter as I pour your glass of water and help you find the keys you say you misplaced because I drive you crazy. Crazy. Funny when this thing we have going is anything but. It is the epitome of nothing and everything all wrapped up in one messy box. Slow and calm with as minimal feelings as possible, right?
You…man you are something, aren’t you. Kind, intelligence, a sense of humor, a heart that’s been broken one too many times. I have never had anyone even look at me the way you have, let alone mean the things they say and you tell me I’m not allowed to catch feelings like it’s some kind of flu. I can play along. I can play the good girlfriend…or whatever it is that I am. I can hold back the tears until you leave this house and fall against the door with things unsaid.
I’ve gotten unusually good at pretending my head is truly empty and standing here in bright pink lingerie, waiting to play Pick Your Pleasure. Perfect hair, perfect makeup, and glossy lips with nothing to say but “Yes, please.” My life has never been about being anything other than lovely and charming, but also sad and lonely; why do you want so much more from me? Blank, lovely smiles are my specialty, but lately, the way you look at me, it’s easier and easier to falter to let anything real slip through…oops.