DAILY PROMPT | Audience of One

The only days I see in color are the days I wake up beside you, I am not sure you knew that.

I worry sometimes that you will never understand how deeply I love you. This fear has been created and maintained by my own selfish need to keep you just far enough away so that it appears you could never hurt me. But you hurt me.

When you get cut I bleed, you probably didn’t know that either. If I could take all the pain you have ever felt, or will ever feel and put that inside me I would. Even though some of that pain is caused by me.

Did you know that you are the only source of happiness I need to survive? We could be trapped in a room with no light and just being able to hear your voice or touch your hand would be enough to sustain me.

If we had only one more second together this is what I would need you to know. This is how I feel, have always felt and will always feel.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Audience of One.”

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DAILY PROMPT | Call Me Ishmael

I scowl with frustration at myself in the mirror* cursing my unruly hair knowing my frustration had less to do with my hair and everything to do with the man standing behind me. Our eyes meet through the reflection in the bathroom mirror and I instantly relax dropping my brush on the counter. I turn to face him and he reaches up and tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear, his fingers brush my ear and I feel a cool tingle race down my back. I want to lean forward and rest my face against his chest but I know I can’t. The frustration creeps back in and I step out of the bathroom and out of his reach knowing he will follow me anyway.

Walking down the hall and into my room I turn on the light and begin searching for my favorite pair of jeans. I find them at the top of a pile of cardboard boxes, which I still have not unpacked even though I moved into this new apartment almost a month ago, and pull them on. He is sitting on the bed watching me and I realize I am not embarrassed by this. Granted he isn’t looking at me like he wishes I was taking clothes off rather than putting them on. His stare suggests vague interest like when your flipping through the television channels trying to find something to watch.

“You know if you’re bored you don’t have to be here.” My words come out a bit more harshly than I anticipated and I sigh frustrated with myself.

“Boredom is not something I feel anymore.” he says getting up to come stand in front of me.

I notice his brown eyes look sadder today than usual and I instantly regret what I said. I want him here all the time regardless if he is bored or not. I take a moment just looking up at his square face and short brown hair. I wish right now more than ever I could touch him. I have always been better at expressing how I am feeling with a touch than with words. I reach up as if to touch him and he steps back out of my reach.

“It isn’t fair.” I say dropping my hand and my head.

“Life’s not fair kid.”

“You know I hate when you call me kid.” I say looking up but he is already gone.

*The book I chose was Fifty Shades of Grey.

If your interested in being a Lost Girl or Lost Boy (or any other oxygen breathing organism) then come back tomorrow because I bet it’s a lot more fun being lost together. To make it easy just press the “Follow” button on the upper right hand side of this page and get email updates every time I post.

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/call-me-ishmael/”>Call Me Ishmael</a>

RPC

If there was ever a moment I did not think of you it is gone now. You are constantly running through my mind. In memories but mostly in fantasies since our time together was cut short. You are the hero of my fantasies, someone who understands me and knows just what to say. You made me feel safe. Everyone says its alright to be angry but I’m not angry. There is no word I know that can describe the mix of feelings I have. It reminds me of that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach as you slam on the car breaks right before impact. You know your about to hit but you can’t stop or avoid the collision and you have no idea if your going to make it.

I wonder if that is how you felt everyday. Like your life was a constant collision and you weren’t sure you could make it. I suppose that is the risk we all take everyday we decide to wake up. Life is just this constant car crash that you can’t predict the outcome of. You have to just keep getting in the car day after day hoping for the best. Some of us can’t deal with this constant uncertainty. We have too many questions, fears, and sadness inside us to keep getting in the car. And if you stop getting in the car, what is the point of waking up?

Is there no hope for me? We both seemed to have such a logical view of the world even with the darkness inside us. If you could not keep going how can I?