Nobody’s Invisible Letter to Somebody

*about the invisible letters we compose in our heads to people never meant to read them. they are the beautiful in their brokenness, and sometimes need to be printed anyway.*

 

I always whisper ‘I love you’ just after I hang up the phone. Mostly because I know that there’s no getting over you, and I’m tired of pretending that I am. I think of you in the stillness where I don’t have to wear make-up or the look of contentment. You untie my heart as if it were made of ribbon and lace and there in the darkness it slides to the floor. You tell me not to say the things that I mean, the things that you say; a stab of guilty pleasure.

I hear the pause between the stalling and the goodbye. It says the thousand things that dwell between us without a sound. It says that you still mean more than you ever wanted to mean. It says that I care more than the indifference printed somewhere else with someone else’s name on it.

I am nobody lost nowhere without time and space to say the things I really ought to say. I’m too busy cooking lasagna and washing sheets stained with indecision. I am busy filling cups with ounces of things that I don’t care about and fail to believe in; indulgence. But that’s how we got here in the first place. Eve and the apple and you.

You are poison. Sweet and passionate poison. My addiction. My vice. You are everything that is bad in me bringing out everything that is best in me, and I am tortured by the images that never existed. It’s easy to hate a nobody, to move on to somebody whose skin rises to your touch, yet you stay playing words over my body. I rise and fall, a marionette doll, tethered to your broken hands.  I lie.

I say goodbye. There’s a pause before the click. “You too,” you say. And I dance again. Lost in a nobodies world that I thought that I knew.

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~ by cbriggswrites on February 18, 2011.