thinks i don't know what's going on. who he's with.
as though intentions are not made clear by behavior, as though the observable patterns of behavior are not telling.
don't get me wrong - i know it sounds like jealousy. but it's my intelligence that's been insulted. why hide what you've already made obvious? perhaps he forgot the clues he dropped.
truthfully, there is worry, but only because i was having fun. happy without challenges. and now i can't predict what will be when next we speak.
because those boys are just as prone to inconsistency as we, as liable to turn on a heel for no discernable reason. our emotions make fools of us all, and a y chromosome is no antidote. thus, i know how it could turn out. he could come to me with answers just as illogical as my thinking this could continue just the same for years.
but it can't, and i knew that going in.
flings are merely a back room where two people slam against each other, hard, and leave each other breathless, then put their socks back on and walk in opposite directions down the street. if you try to hide away in that room, if you beg your lover not to go, you may forestall the inevitable, but you cannot prevent it.
for something more, you need courage and mercy, respect, from the beginning. it's not possible to inject those qualities from the present and pretend they flowed through a thing all along.
i can wait, because people's secrets show in their eyes. and next i see him, i'll see what he wants. it will go one way or the other.. i'll walk home alone or hang on and wait for the next bump in the road. |
