Beauty In Your Lies.
It turns out that it was mostly a lie, but at least for a little while, it was a beautiful one. The kind that turns your stomach into knots, everything is perfect. Where the sound of them breathing is soothing, and their touch is a necessity, not a craving.
Simple eye contact sends fire through your body, the stomach-churning, hot-bodied, tooth aching love.
And the courage I do not own or have, or that I’ll ever possess. The love I can’t show because of the crushing fear that it won’t be acknowledged. To live in someone’s head freely and completely take over.
Have I not given you my all? Have I fucked up beyond hope?
Sometimes I have this horrible thought, wondering if I was the only one. Why’d you lie, if you knew I’d find out eventually?
