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12.21.2011

okay, i'll go first.

i peeled off the tights in such a hurry. there were holes in the feet and my toes were poking through and i was embarrassed. so i got out of them, fast as could. no show of it, just off.

there was so much i didn't want you to see. because if you saw, well then you'd know everything. and i am nothing if not deeply prideful.

i dreamt a few nights back that i reached for you. we were sitting in a car. a car? headed somewhere. and i reached my arm out to cup the back of your neck--that sacred space between shoulders and tufts of hair. but i couldn't quite reach. you were just past arm's distance.

i did that. i get that. i kept you there. i reached but never let you get closer than the span of my wing. and i would turn over and roll away because i didn't want you to think i needed you. it was casual and i was cool and i was fine, so i responded to everything dismissively and carefully navigated your questions, revealing nothing, all the while keeping to my side of the bed.

because, well, to reveal reveal anything would be to reveal everything. and i was nothing if not afraid.

i know you saw how my cheeks flushed. and watched as i averted my eyes again and again--not wanting you to catch the half-glints of a secret shame. and there were all those terrible jokes i told just to keep the levity?

self-preservation.

to imagine a world in which you might care for me was impossible. it had been so impossible for so long that it was simply a luxury i couldn't afford. the cost would be too much.

so instead i'd keep myself awake at night just to study the outline of your face, the curve of your back, the color of your skin, how you shifted and moved as light angled its way into the room.

the thing is... no one tells you about that moment--that moment well into the night when you get up to use the bathroom and you spend a minute in there--breathing, water on the face, studying yourself in his oversized, knit shirt and then you open the door to return to bed, and yes, he's still there and he's still asleep but his arm is reached out to the empty space where you were just minutes before. and you climb in--and he pulls you in. into him. all without ever really waking.

his awareness of your absence. no one prepares you for that.

there have been others, of course. other stories. other half-loves. triumphs and tragedies of this fragile heart. and it was early on that i came to accept i'd never tell you--you, the first man i ever loved, those three words: i. and love. and you. my love for you would simply be. it would shift and change and recede. and it would fill me up. and i'd move on. to the next. we all cope. we all adapt and adjust and accept.

but there was this sense, this desperate, ne'r talked of hope that we might cycle back and, then what?

i. and love. and you.

i. and love. and you.

i love the way the avett brothers put it. everything aspires to music, doesn't it? the ands there giving the words room to breath. so very shakespearean.



34 comments:

Kera said...

fantastic words.

wildchild said...

the avett brothers speak so much truth. and you're right: that moment when they pull you back in means the world.

megan said...

This is absolutely beautiful and moving.

Hannah Joy said...

You have a way with words. This post seriously gives new meaning to that song. I like what you're saying about how it's the 'ands' that mean so much. They're giving the other words space to breathe. I and love and you just become separate elements to a larger idea.

Celeste said...

Meg... Stop it (please don't ever stop).

Ramona said...

wow.

debbiecutieface.com said...

"the thing is... no one tells you about that moment--that moment well into the night when you get up to use the bathroom and you spend a minute in there--breathing, water on the face, studying yourself in his oversized, knit shirt and then you open the door to return to bed, and yes, he's still there and he's still asleep but his arm is reached out to the empty space where you were just minutes before. and you climb in--and he pulls you in. into him. all without ever really waking."

This.

Ashley and Patrick said...

No one tells you about that moment, but let me tell you, as a married woman, that moment never gets old. Four years later, my husband still does that in his sleep, and when he does, it takes my breath away. You're a beautiful lucky girl, Meg, to be with this man. Be brave.

Ana Magdalena said...
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Laura Marie said...

Only love inspires words like this—and how lucky he is to have been the one to inspire them.

Jessica said...

"the thing is... no one tells you about that moment--that moment well into the night when you get up to use the bathroom and you spend a minute in there--breathing, water on the face, studying yourself in his oversized, knit shirt and then you open the door to return to bed, and yes, he's still there and he's still asleep but his arm is reached out to the empty space where you were just minutes before. and you climb in--and he pulls you in. into him. all without ever really waking."


love everything about that because it's so incredibly true.
i absolutely love when that happens ... i don't think anything in the world could replace such a feeling.

Jennifer Rod said...

amazing meg, amazing!

Grace said...

Holy heavens Meg, this is beautiful! I had to catch my breath several times just reading it. Thank you!

Little Lo Hood said...

You have the most amazing way with words. You give me goosebumps. This is so true and I think for so many of us. :) -Lo

Jeneric Generation said...

You truly have a gift, Meg! Never forget that. Always keep writing, even if you think nobody is listening.

jenn said...

You have a way with words that moves me, if not everyone who reads them. You are inspiring! Thank you!

Mackenzie said...

meg, please narrate my life. only you could make the simplest things, moments, and trivialities of life so incredibly heartbreakingly beautiful. only you.

Alex said...

his awareness of your absence. no one prepares you for that.

le sigh.

Sarah Ann said...

This is quite positively one of the most gorgeous things that you've ever written.

reverie.

lizzy said...

what mackenzie said. you are extraordinary, darling.

Brissa said...

meg.
you have blown my mind.
again.
wow.

meg said...

I didn't think it was possible, but you just made me a romantic.

Damn.

Anonymous said...

Is this in reference to a real boyfriend yet or still just an imaginary boyfriend...?

Anonymous said...

so beautifully written.

belongs in a novel.

Kate said...

This is beautiful. Truly beautiful.

Robby Spratt said...

Am I the only dude who leaves comments here? Anyway, that was great! I look forward to those little moments too. :)

sarah said...

the tights series is so beautiful meg, i cannot get enough of your words. i want to bathe in them and drink them with my morning coffee and tuck them underneath my pillow at night.

i am mourning a great heartbreak. eight years of this with my first love. and every single word you write is as if each moment escaped my body and wandered into your keyboard.

Thank you so much.

Noelle said...

I have read for a long time but never commented. Everything about you...your life...your words... It's all just so beautiful! Thank you for letting us share in that.

Amy said...

This. I love it.

Britti said...

Wow. Everyone of your words just touches my heart.
Thanks for being so honest, so wonderful, so inspiring.

Emily said...

I love this, Meg. All of it.

Monx said...
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meg fee said...
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meg fee said...
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