You looked at me,

With eyes wide they looked ready to fall out of their sockets,

That thin slit of moon reflecting off of them.

You were beautiful.

That was the night I told you I loved you.

But I could see it; the doubt.

Rampant disbelief.

Why couldn't you believe me?

I trembled in fear at the utterance of those words.

They were real,

Untarnished from the lack of use.

You knew how hard it was for me to say them.

You didn't speak.

Instead, you smiled.

Without feeling.

Without sincerity.

You shouldn't.

And I was left alone with the echo of those two words ringing in my ears with no explanation.

I didn't see you for a week.

You ignored every attempted contact.

Your father would lie for you to me.

He could could sense it too.

Come back tomorrow son.

And I did.

Until it wasn't me ringing that school reminiscent bell you hated so much but convinced your dad to buy anyways.

Instead, he rung mine.

He didn't have to say it.

Somehow, I knew.

I remember you telling me how strong your father was.

You'd never seen him cry and it was something you never wanted to experience.

I did the only thing I could.

We embraced for what felt like hours.

He'd just lost his only baby girl;

I had lost the first love of my life.

Shame knew that that night, its place was not to inhibit.

It's true that men do cry.

And I'm terrified of what's to come.

Of the reminders of you.

Will I walk into a store only to hear that Bright Eyes song you loved to sing along to?

Will I be able to drink french vanilla without missing the taste of your lips?

Will I be able to sleep on my bed, where you told me all your silly fears like letting out a monster if you didn't shut your closet door?

Or your buried secrets like the abortion you had when you were nineteen?

I can't say I won't hate you for a while.

I will.

But I hope you forgive me for whispering your name to this empty room,

Calling you out,

Pleading.

I'll leave my closet door open tonight.

Every night.

Just in case.


June 13, 2014

© L.L.