#012: If Only
The aftertaste of the 7th cigarette I lighted the last time I met you at the café was bitter, and I swear I felt my lungs giving in and my heart giving up. I could feel your eyes observing me as you sat there, left hand cupping your cheek, right hand fiddling with the teaspoon, elbows on the table. You tried to look nonchalant about it, pretending to stare out the window when all you ever wanted to see was me, withering silently at the corner of your eye.
I never told anyone about it. I tried to ignore it. But the truth is, the hole in which I stored everything I wanted to say to you has expanded without me noticing.
Since when did we stop talking about the more important things?
Since when did I start running away from you and your lips, and your eyes, and your cheeks and your lips and…
I kissed you because that was the only thing I ever wanted to do. And you kissed me because that is the only thing you could ever do for me. My lips tasted of smoke and regrets and desire; yours tasted of pity and valediction.
Because you knew we could have had everything we ever wanted.
If only we said it out loud.
A/N: Inspired by R. Siken. “You said I could have anything I wanted, but I just couldn’t say it out loud.”