Secrets

Some days are easier than others. Sometimes I go out and immerse myself in other people, get lost in them. I try to avoid feeling, they say that painful emotion only lasts 12 minutes or so, thus meaning that anything that follows is self-inflicted, right? But then I come home and get lost in the same empty bed, the one I am lost in now. You told me that I was unexplainable but that I was wonderful, and when I bit my lip in the dark and laughed, I knew you were smiling too. You forgot to be emotionless in all the moments that could have distanced you from this. I opened up to you and told you my insides, told you the way I hated my indecisive nature and how my old boyfriend broke me. I thought that was the worst secret. But you can’t damage something that is beyond repair. The worst secrets are the misleading ones, the ones you keep closest and don’t tell, making them feel safe when they’re not. This is tricky but I don’t regret giving a piece of myself to you and watching you walk away with it. One day, we will be forever done and what will we remember each other by? Will you remember me dazed by your cologne, telling you stories of before my life before this; remember me saying I was ready; remember me being calm and composed whilst underneath this cover my chest was burning and I swear you could hear my heart. I never gave you an explanation, I’ve never been good at those, but I think you already know everything you had to anyway. I know all of this will get buried beneath life itself, and that’s okay, I will be okay. But when you are driving in the dark and the raining starts falling softly, I wish that you would secretly think of me. We were a dangerous secret, that makes everything before us deceiving, but it also keeps it safe in a way that the truth never could.