How could we not start off by deceiving each other, when we had so much to hide? Most of which was not ours alone to share, but intertwined and interwoven with the lives and the rights of so many others to have those secrets kept. Unspoken. Veiled by our loyalties to them, that were never louder than our heart’s need to be heard, but right by the ways we knew and obligations we’d been taught.
How I longed to speak all of the words to you, to have you sit there listening to the unraveling of all our secrets, mine and theirs. To answer every question you could ever possibly have or conceive and to hear them, these guarded secrets like gold dust from my lips, and understand them as if you were of a higher intellect. To forgive that I had to share that which did not belong to us, in order for you to know the entirety of me. So that you could look upon me and see every part. Every layer. Not a single piece of mine kept from any piece of yours and you would have loved me then.
I know you would have, I could see that need in your eyes. I Felt the longing in your every exhale, to finally find the one utterly exposed to your every sense, so that you could toss away all of your bonds and rip the weight from your soul, like so many layers of dead skin you’d yet to molt… if only you could find that open surrender, that offered disregard.
But I kept my secrets by keeping theirs and you left carrying your own. Carrying those that were not yours to share, but were entangled with you like briars through plastic squares and we don’t mourn each other as we were on that day.
We mourn each other as we wish we’d been.