Three weeks of it. Waiting, hoping, not quite daring to pray. Hovering over his body whispering words of comfort we desperately wish could come true. It's amazing how the lies learn to flow; sliding over each other, spilling out. We sit on opposite sides of the bed, each holding a dying hand. Even tears seem pointless anymore. Yesterday, you tried to kiss me as we went home. Please, no. I need a friend, not a fuck. So here we sit, silently clinging to him, and I watch you watching me.
Reason for writing:
I want some comments on this, so I've added it again.
Birth sign: Gemini
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