Plug

It would be easier if I didn’t know how much you loved me. It would be easier to give up. I don’t want to be that girl from your past. Tail wagging in the air. Tongue out. All but ready to have a bone thrown in just for kicks. Even just thinking about it makes me cringe in embarrassment.

It’s pitiful and disgraceful. Without a moment’s notice, you can bet that I would rush to your side whenever you need me. Even if it’s just a sniffle or a lithe disturbance in your  comfort. I’d speed down the highway and put that pedal to work. It’s disconcerting that I’m telling you this so openly. But I know you know. And that’s what’s making this worse.

Here I am with my arms wide open. Hands outstretched, just waiting to be called. To have your not so secret love confession tumble right out of your pretty little mouth. But of course, that’s a lost cause. Every single time, your answer has always been the opposite of hope. That’s what crushes me the most. This. Us. Right here. It’s not going to happen. It probably never will.

Just tell me. Lie to me. Act your ass out and deny all your feelings out. I’d take it. I’ll pretend to believe you. But you never do. You never do anything that would get me from here to there. Even if you don’t say it. Even if you try so hard to repress it. The worst thing is that I can hear it in your heartbeat. I can tell by the simple press of your lips. And the thin line of your eyebrows that resolutely joins in unison whenever I’m in distress.

Maybe it’s the way I look? Maybe it’s the way I speak? Maybe it’s the way I seem to act like I don’t think of the future? Or maybe I’m just not worth the fight after all. For once and for all. Just say it. Say something. Anything that will deter us forever, or a push down to the possibility of forever and us.