1. not resisting; compliant
2. not stiff or rigid; easily bent or shaped
Giving up. Giving in. Giving out. All the same way to admit that I lied. And it wasn't even easy. It would have been easier to tell the truth to you. But you didn't want to hear it. So I'll say it here. I'll say it while I'm watching you sleep, but I'll get out of bed to do it, and sit in the chair by the window, where I'm grateful for the opened crack of the window, the cool wind rushing in with every movement of the night.
The night.
That's it. That's what I wanted to tell you. It was the night. I followed you, and I was right. You went to her place. And I watched as you ran up the stairs to her door and knocked. I parked the car under the lamppost so that if you looked behind you, you might see me. But you didn't even turn around. You just faced the door and waited.
I might have honked the horn. I thought about it. I thought of rolling down the window and screaming out, "I see you! I see you!" My finger tip played with the button, but then the door opened and the light from inside was thrown across your body, and she leaned out and kissed you on the lips. You leaned in and then you were gone. All it took was one step forward, towards her. And you were gone.
My own body jerked forward. I can only say it felt like my heart was lunging for you. My insides heaved. When I finally opened the door, it was so that my mouth could open and close, open and close, gasping for breath or attempting to expunge everything, I don't know.
So when I told you just now, tonight, in the kitchen, that I didn't care. That it didn't matter. Please don't believe me. Please turn around right now. Please don't be sleeping. Tell me that it's over. That it was all a mistake. Lie to me too. And I'll believe you.
The night.
That's it. That's what I wanted to tell you. It was the night. I followed you, and I was right. You went to her place. And I watched as you ran up the stairs to her door and knocked. I parked the car under the lamppost so that if you looked behind you, you might see me. But you didn't even turn around. You just faced the door and waited.
I might have honked the horn. I thought about it. I thought of rolling down the window and screaming out, "I see you! I see you!" My finger tip played with the button, but then the door opened and the light from inside was thrown across your body, and she leaned out and kissed you on the lips. You leaned in and then you were gone. All it took was one step forward, towards her. And you were gone.
My own body jerked forward. I can only say it felt like my heart was lunging for you. My insides heaved. When I finally opened the door, it was so that my mouth could open and close, open and close, gasping for breath or attempting to expunge everything, I don't know.
So when I told you just now, tonight, in the kitchen, that I didn't care. That it didn't matter. Please don't believe me. Please turn around right now. Please don't be sleeping. Tell me that it's over. That it was all a mistake. Lie to me too. And I'll believe you.
Is this a fear of yours?
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