It's odd..I know him..and he thinks he knows me..Close friends, but still he doesn't know me. That is, he knows parts of me really well..other parts he doen't even know exist.
He's a friend of mine..but still more. He thinks he's a friend of mine. I know otherwise. Yes, he knows me, I can agree to that...But he doen't know me as well as he thinks..
I'm always sat next to him. Smiling. Listening to his stories. I love his stories. He's a person who enjoys life, who is always open for all of life's possibilities..And I listen to him. I notice every detail of what he says...how his face changes, how his hand movements tell the stories with him, his changing facial expressions..how his voice trembles and his eyes darken when he shares the parts that matter the most to him. Most of the stories don't involve me. Still I smile.
He'll never know what I feel. That I take in every little thing. And remember all of it. I will never tell him. He looks into my eyes..believes he knows what I'm feeling, but in reality he has no idea. I always smile. My smile can hide everything.
I smile when I'm laying next to him. His breath at night..when he's asleep..steady and slow.. His hand cupping my breast. So comfortable next to me. With me. And I'm with him...smiling as he moves closer to me, hugs me, without waking up. The dark hides my smile..
My fingers on his chest..My eys fixed his face as I plant a small tender kiss on his neck...His sleep hides my kiss. He doesn't wake up. . .
He'll never wake up.
