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his arms around
me. I know, and
I know how lucky
that makes me.
Come on. Let’s
take a shower.
He rolls out of
bed, heads for
the bathroom.
I watch him go,
wondering just
what the fuck
that meant to me.
My First Reaction
Is anger. I want to jump up, run
into the bathroom behind him, demand
a reciprocal declaration. [Don’t be stupid.
Demands are the best way to lose someone.]
Now hurt gulps at me. Even
if he doesn’t love me, after all
we just shared, the least he could
do is lie. [You’d rather hear lies?]
If he doesn’t love me, I’m mortified
for giving myself in the ways I just
did. Those things can only be justified
by loving someone heart and soul.
[Men are clods. Maybe he thinks
what he said qualifies as “I love you.”]
What did he say? That he’s lucky because
I love him. Nope, not the same thing at all.
