I Bet It Feels Easier With Her

girl in cool sneakers and a sweatshirt
Sharon Garcia

I bet it feels easier with her. Settled. Secure. Forever. I bet you never lay awake at night wondering if her dreams will take her from you. I bet you don’t feel her ready to run whenever you hold her close.

I bet you take her camping simply because it feels good to actually explore the outside with someone who feels at home amongst the trees, with nature as their backdrop. I bet you huddle together as the night steals the sky and roast marshmallows on a poorly lit fire. I bet you warm her hands between your palms just as an excuse to be close to her, to touch her. I bet you don’t spend hours arguing over which film to watch, I bet your food doesn’t go cold because neither of you are willing to compromise.I bet you smell the outside on her skin, fresh and musky and it reminds you of your childhood, of contentment and excitement and the wild.

I bet she listens excitedly when you talk about the things which make your eyes sparkle, when you begin to speak with your hands. I bet she hangs on your every word. I bet she finds it endearing that you want to spend hours hidden away, playing video games and losing yourself to worlds which only exist behind a screen. I bet she hasn’t begun to feel neglected.

I bet your parents are in love with her too. I bet they don’t worry about the years which exist between you or the fact your ambitions don’t even touch at the corners. I bet they stock the fridge with her favourite drink for your visit. I bet my diet sodas are long gone now. I bet they got thrown away with the memories. Rumbling along the bottom of the trash can, out of sight, out of mind. I bet you discuss politics and geography at the table without glancing worridley at her, worried she feels out of her depth or disinterested. I bet they don’t have to muster up topics just to make her feel involved.

I bet you don’t wait hours for her to get ready for your dates. I bet she washes her face clean and scrapes her hair back. I bet she throws on a plain t-shirt and jeans and you still think she looks beautiful. I bet you even tell her so. I bet you don’t struggle for words to say between the flickering candles. I bet you’re the last ones there, devouring every moment.

I bet she always craves you. I bet you have a spark we could never seem to find. A passion we only hoped for. I bet it drives you crazy.

I bet you feel fireworks in your stomach when she throws her head back and laughs, when her entire body is moving simply because of something you said. I bet sometimes you even see my face there, in her smile. I bet sometimes her words mirror mine and you catch yourself, shake yourself free of me. I bet I still feel like poison. I bet you pull her in close to you at night when you are still lost to your dreams, still so far away from what is real and here and now.

I bet sometimes you forget the different curves of our bodies, how your hand glides from her hips to that delicate dip of her waist. I bet she even sleeps like me; on her side, turned away from you but still touching. Just one foot, rubbing circles against yours, still searching for you whilst her mind is elsewhere.

I bet just as the sun begins to rise, as the moon is chased away, you think of me, you feel me, you are with me. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

Writer, Daydreamer, Coffee Addict

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