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Reste si tu veux
by Marguerite Muguet
Rain has fallen from the sky. Rushing to meet the hard ground, making it soft. But it has stopped for a time.
I'm walking in the forest, trying to forget. He looked so happy when he left this afternoon. I wish I was the one making him so. I want to be the source of his passion, of his fire. He doesn't see that, of course. He only sees the shy and *sweet* (yes, he has called me that once) kid. I think he senses the hunger in me, my hunger for affection, for love, for attention. He gives me some, but not enough. Love for a friend, but not for a lover.
The birds are singing again.
That's why I'm walking down this path. I'm going towards another one who can and does give me plenty of affection, love and attention. He only asks for the same in return. Sometimes, when I close my eyes and feel his hands on my body, I almost believe I can do it. Then, I open my eyes and realise it's all a lie. There's this shadow between us. His face always present in my mind, in my hunger. It never let's me nor him forget.
A bird above, flying towards the ground.
I'm getting closer to the cave. Soon, I'll be with him. He missed practice for this. He wants it more than I do. The longer it goes, the more painful it gets. We'll spend the afternoon together. We’ll pretending it's both what we want. If only he hadn't said it. If only he hadn't brought it in the open by saying 'I love you'. It would be simpler, we'd be lying in the silence not in our words. When your best friend says those words, what do you do ?
Quickly, the bird grabs a worm and swallows it.
You lie. You say 'I love you' knowing all along that he knows as well as you that it's all a masquerade. You hurt without wanting to, but unable to stop it. I enter the cave and there he is. He is reading, memorising. He looks up and smiles. It hurts that smile, but I answer with a shy one. His book falls from his hand when he hugs and kisses me.
It flies up, disappearing in the trees.
We’re on the ground and the afternoon is dying. We have to leave, but I’m not hungry, just sad. I’m walking again, my eyes on the ground. If I could choose, this wouldn’t be happening. I’d meet those eyes without shame and they wouldn’t loose their shine each time I say ‘I love you’.
End.