08-10-2020, 01:47 PM
when you're dreaming with a broken heart
She is ashamed of how easily she melts beneath him.
She is ashamed of how quickly her body recalls how to react with his, as if they had not spent lifetimes apart.
She is ashamed because she knows it means she is weak, and not nearly as strong-willed as she likes to think.
It would be easier if it was not all so seamless. It would be easier to sever the ties again, to walk away and never look back if he did not make it so impossible to ignore all the warning signs. If with every movement he did not erase a lifetime of hurt, if with every breath she felt expelled against her neck, she did not forget how he had left her shattered beyond repair once before.
She forgets, even if it is only for this moment. Even if she knows that by tomorrow the clarity will chase the fog away, and she will be left empty and broken and alone. She forgets, and she lets the high fill her, allows herself to get lost in the feel of him like it is the last thing she will ever have.
“I love you, too,” she whispers, and the lie tastes so sweet on her tongue she could almost believe it.
The way that he keeps saying her name drags her further down into this sea that she is drowning in, and instead of fighting for air, she lets it kill her. “Yours,” she reassures him with soft, gasping breaths, “I have always been yours.” But somehow, even lost in the moment, even when drowning in this sea that he pulls them under, she does not believe that he is hers. Even when he makes her shudder and cry out beneath him, he still does not feel like hers.
He never had been, and that was a reality she had accepted so long ago that not even this long-forgotten fantasy that had finally come alive could steer her from the truth.
She is ashamed of how quickly her body recalls how to react with his, as if they had not spent lifetimes apart.
She is ashamed because she knows it means she is weak, and not nearly as strong-willed as she likes to think.
It would be easier if it was not all so seamless. It would be easier to sever the ties again, to walk away and never look back if he did not make it so impossible to ignore all the warning signs. If with every movement he did not erase a lifetime of hurt, if with every breath she felt expelled against her neck, she did not forget how he had left her shattered beyond repair once before.
She forgets, even if it is only for this moment. Even if she knows that by tomorrow the clarity will chase the fog away, and she will be left empty and broken and alone. She forgets, and she lets the high fill her, allows herself to get lost in the feel of him like it is the last thing she will ever have.
“I love you, too,” she whispers, and the lie tastes so sweet on her tongue she could almost believe it.
The way that he keeps saying her name drags her further down into this sea that she is drowning in, and instead of fighting for air, she lets it kill her. “Yours,” she reassures him with soft, gasping breaths, “I have always been yours.” But somehow, even lost in the moment, even when drowning in this sea that he pulls them under, she does not believe that he is hers. Even when he makes her shudder and cry out beneath him, he still does not feel like hers.
He never had been, and that was a reality she had accepted so long ago that not even this long-forgotten fantasy that had finally come alive could steer her from the truth.
the waking up is the hardest part
ANONYA
