The art of lying

I love you.

 You looked away.

Was I joking? You ask.

Yes. Of course. Love is for mermaids and barbies. Love is not for me. It is an incomprehensible mystery that doesn’t interest me. I have watched too many backs walk into the distance. I know, forever is a mythical three eyed beast.

 Yes you say. You deny its existence and put off meeting it till eternity.

You call me your friend. Do you want the title? You mock me with those uncertain eyes.

 No I don’t! Because I love an empty bed in the mornings. I never think of fooling around in the kitchen on a Sunday. Just us. Never. I don’t want to run my fingers through your hair and watch you smile in your sleep. The thought of you reading me a poem as I drift into a dream. With your voice rolling in the distance amongst the threads of my imagination. Why would I want those things?

Nobody in your life knows I exist. You never said it. But I knew. You were always holding back. I take time letting people in. You said.

You were always hidden. Like that garden guarded by walls I could not scale. I have a wall too, every brick is a scar. I was that girl who had her heart put back together so many times, she didn’t know it could work again. But I had a back door because I had hope. And through that I let you in. To you I must be a monster because I never found yours.

  
But there were gaps you couldn’t seal. I saw that lonely heart through your timid gaze. When I looked away and felt your eyes on me I saw a yearning. When you thought I was drunk and won’t remember you told me you didn’t trust easily, I knew you were fighting to keep me out and let me in. When you called me because we hadn’t seen each other in days, I knew my voice made you smile. You were my secret garden. 

Does it bother you? You asked one day. Not knowing me well enough?

No. I am not inquisitive. I saw glimpses of you and created the rest. But knowing will ruin it. Knowing you are flawed like me. Knowing you run wild like overgrown weeds. Knowing you dream of ridiculous things. Knowing you are capable of love. But incapable of loving me.

So I lied.