moist.

It's cloudy today.

The air is thick with moisture, the sun no where in sight. It threatens to rain, but it hasn't yet.

The dull, grey light shines through the window and illuminates everything with a tired glow. The window is open and a barely there breeze moves the light yellow curtains. The shadows dance across the walls.

We are sitting across from each other. You are slouched in your chair, arms folded across the table's surface, a cigarette hanging from your mouth. The orange light contrasting the rest of the room. The spirals of smoke make their way out the window, slowly dissipating in the crisp outside air.

I stare at you as you gaze outside, your eyes unfocused, deep in thought. I can't help but think you look good like this. Your face is pale, it has a tender glow to it. Your hair, slightly wavy from the humidity, caresses your cheeks gently. You look content and that makes me happy.

Your hand reaches up to your lips and you pull the cigarette out carefully. Bringing it to the cold, black ashtray next to your arm, you tap it on the side. One. two taps. Ashes drop down, scattering about and glimmering like small fireworks.

You notice me observing you. You lift your eyes to meet mine and smile.

It starts to rain.

perhaps.

what was i even going to say

words leave my mouth

they drip out

the leak out

running down and out

like

rain drops

rolling off an umbrella

i want to pick them up

i want to give them to you

so that someday you might

understand me

and pity me

and give me attention

so i don't have to

always

always

be so lonely

with nothing

but my broken

ill-fated thoughts

and so that you

can give me something

to hold on to

to grasp

to cherish

so that i

might stay

in this world

a little bit

longer

not about anyone in particular.

I realize now that we are drifting apart.

Him and I.

How long has it been that we've known each other.

I wonder.

I don't know what it was that made us so dependent on each other.

We used to be inseparable, never needing anyone but ourselves. Always together, always having a good time. We were truly in sync with each other.

And when I say that, I suppose I don't even know if he feels the same way.

Does he need me in the same way I need him? Did I make as big an impact on his life, as he did mine?

I can't say I know, nor will I ever know. To understand what he is thinking, to know why he does what he does, is something like an impossible dream of mine. I do know more than most, but it's never enough for me.

His actions, his moods, some of them, they make no sense to me.

At one time, we could be laughing together,

smiling together.

And the next, he could be hitting me, yelling, crying, the emotion showing so obviously on his face.

Though in fact he does none of these things in the real world. Not outwardly, at least.

No, all of these things, they happen in my head. Not to say I'm crazy or anything.

But with him, every slight recoil from my touch is a bitter blow to my body. Every silence between us is deafening wail. And every frown, every wavering intake of breath is a large tear, a chest wracking sob, that escapes from him.

After all these years, I thought I knew everything about him. I thought I could what he was thinking, what he was feeling, what he was going to do, without ever saying a word. He is so restrained about his emotions, about anything, I had to learn.

Learn how to read him. Because if I didn't, who would? Surely no one would get as close to him, get to know him as well. Or maybe that was what I wanted to believe. I could not stand if someone else were gain his absolute trust, were to be in the same position as I. Or even if they were to know more about him than I do.

I was so absurd.

How could he go his whole life only depending on one person? Of course he would meet more people, make more connections. I see that now.

Now that he has started to hide things from me. There are things that he keeps secret from me, things I find out myself but can never gain enough courage to ask him about.

And now. . . now he has fallen in love. How can I accept that?

Someone, who is not me, who is the center of his world, of his attention, of his heart.

What do they have that I don't have?

When did this distance start to grow so much? When did he grow up and leave me behind?

I am still waiting. Waiting in the past, along with the memories of us and the old him.

I am waiting for him to come and get me.

To grab hold of my hand, to squeeze it with a gentle reassurance.

For him to say. In a soft, delicate voice,

"It's okay, you don't have to be scared. You can grow up now. You can move on.

I'll be right beside you. Always.

Because

I

love

you."