You know sometimes our actions they join hands and they become behaviors that are too complicated for lips to say out-loud, so instead we just liberate our flesh letting skin speak on our behalf the language of those who are just as afraid of commitment as they are of being alone and we speak it like it’s our native tongue.
Honestly, I can’t tell you her favorite color, her middle name, or what her face looks like with the lights on. All I know is that we are both allergic to the exact same things; things like compliments, like the word beautiful, like someone saying I love you with arms full of acceptance and sincerity on their breath. Most days I wonder what she carries in the luggage underneath her eyes, I wonder if those bags ever get too heavy for her face but instead I let those questions sandcastle inside of my stomach
I amputate the parts of me that are growing fond of her smell and I wash my sheets.
And I think to myself, you know, most men are proud of things like this."