lying beside each other, i had my hand wrapped in his own and [beneath layers of fuzz, stutters and alcohol] i was trying to get him to speak. he looked at me, i stared back. he pulled his hand from mine and spoke out air of question and gently pressed, "are you getting too attached?"

i took my eyes from the TV screen and faced his own. what was i supposed to think?

he wants me to stop.
he wants me to leave.
he wants me to let go.

"no.." as i stared back into his glossy blue eyes. my hand was still lying on his waist - dull with inactivity - as he placed his hand back ontop of mine. only this time i retrieved my hand back [still hurt from the question he had just conjured] and placed myself at the other side of the couch.

he started talking [oh, how i could never just ignore him]
.. "i was just asking.. i don't want to hurt you."

you said you'd kill yourself if you ever hurt me. if only you knew how many times you've already jumped off that bridge. slit that throat. swallowed that poison. inhaled that seawater. knocked the stool beneath your feet as your necklace tightened. placed the plastic bag over your face. [and said goodbye.]

i'm still hoping time can break bonds.
i'm still just as lonely when you touch me.
i'm still lying to myself.
[but] i'll be waiting.
silently. breathing.
bleeding. [secretly, of course.]

xxxx