you and me – POSTCARD #21
Sent in by my beautiful friend Lucy. I wish I was the kind of writer that read the word ‘entwine’ and saw two furry little things on roller skates and wrote something a little less achy. oh well.
When I wake up entwined in him, before real consciousness creeps in, I know this moment is why I do it. I kiss his back before he wakes up. He’s my friend, a good friend and I know I can’t lose him. Because he doesn’t love me. He knows the secret language you learn to speak when you’re lost at sea. He can keep me afloat as long as I don’t love him. So I dull the edges. I drink. I chain smoke. I swallow the pills one by one at different times of the day so no one catches on. I break down and cry in somebody’s arms one night. I can’t remember what it was that he said. I just remember the feeling of my head on his chest as the tears finally came hard and choking the way they always eventually did. I wonder how much I told him. The cab driver wants to know why I’m crying. He wants to know why I can’t remember my pin number. He gives me his mobile phone number and tells me I can give him the rest of the money another time. I hitch. The kindness of strangers always does that to me. I stumble out of the cab and try to find his new house. He calls and leads me to his arms and I don’t have any more memories. He murmurs words into my skin that maybe I dream. The last time I cried in front of him was when he told me he could never love me. I covered my face with my hands and let the tears come silently. But I was hiding my eyes too, so he couldn’t see that if he ever did love me, he would lose me.