I don’t think you understand. I close my eyes and there we are in that crowded Italian nightclub, sweat-drenched clothes sticking to our pale winter skin. I am a mess of make-up stained tears reaching out to you.
But you step back; push me away like you’ve been doing for months. I think this is the moment I could lose you for good. Before I know it, I’m shouting above the music, hoping you hear what’s been weighing me down for too long. I love you. And I think you love me too.
I don’t think you understand. I close my eyes and there we are in our tiny Roman loft, hiding our naked bodies under my pink-and-purple comforter, arms and legs tangled together. I can stay wrapped up in you forever, but it’s a Monday morning and I have class in ten.
I call a cab even if it’s a short walk to school; tell you I’m lazy and its too hot out, but leaving late really means an extra minute spent with you. I love you. And I’m positive you love me too.
I don’t think you understand. I close my eyes and wake up next to you in a different continent, apartment smaller than our last. I could get claustrophobic with the size of your room, but feeling your chest against my back calms me down. By now I am familiar with the rhythm of your breathing.
By now we can find each other in the dark; clothing falling to the floor as you unhook my bra strap like you did the night before. But I am scared our routine will leave us bored and uninterested in a lifetime by each other’s side. Still I love you. And I know you love me too.
I don’t think you understand. I can’t close my eyes because that means it’s another night spent without you, lying in a bed too big for one. By now you’re with someone new, but I can’t help thinking our story isn’t over. Because I love you. And I hope you love me too.