A
tiny little 4+D
"I think I love
you."
I wish I could take those
words back. Spoken in a passing fit of
insanity, blurted out in
that short space between elation and
realization. I should have held back. I should have kept it all to
myself. If I had I would not be so wretched and
miserable as I am
now.
What did I hope to
accomplish?
You curled your lips into a
smile and twirled your hair on your
finger. "Ah, Quatre," you said. "Don't bore me."
That was all.
Yet only moments before,
your lips were pressed to mine. Hungry
and
tender and soft and
urgent. I held you in my arms and your
hair fell
around us like a veil,
shielding us from the cold hard world.
You
were for me and I for you
all that was needed to create a safe harbor.
What you sought was a brief
respite from the harshness of reality.
Nothing more.
But if.
If I had spoken differently,
other words perhaps, more clever and
compelling, would I have found
the incantation to weave your heart
into mine, and keep you in
my arms forever? Would the right words
have let you fall into my
embrace, and let the mask slip away to
reveal your secret pain?
You turn your back and walk
away, your pale gold hair following like
a train. It breaks my heart.
I should have said, "I
love you."
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