Light Pollution

There are no stars in DC skies. They're still there of course, but I couldn't see them but for all the other lights around me. Offices, apartments, street lights--the artifical overshadowing of that which is pure and enduring.

In the darkness here, I see stars I've long forgotten. Here they appear crisp and in multitudes. Instead, other things are blurred by distractions. Like the way the distance between you and I laying in bed tonight feels vast and insurmountable. I could turn off the light and curl into that nook where your arm meets your body. I could turn off the light and close the gap between you and I. With a whisper of honesty that would fall on sleeping ears, I could block out the pollution and bring the stars back into view.

But the distance is far too great for me to ever cross.

Stay

For as long as I can remember, boys have said the darndest things to me. Some used crazy pick up lines that made me laugh. Some argued with such passion that it made my knees weak. Some told me epic tales that cemented their status as tools. Some told me the dark secrets they often think about, but rarely share. Some recounted their past failed loves. Some espoused their hopes for the future. Some lied and said they loved me. Some lied and said they didn't love me.

Through these experiences, I've developed a pretty solid radar for bullshit. What amazes me though, is my ability to ignore the bullshit to get what I want. Knowing that they were lying, or perceiving that they had egos the size of army bases, I slept with men, loved men to avoid being alone.

Most of the time, fate ran its course. Relationships that never should have started ended. Those who easily found the bed in the dark had no trouble finding the door in the morning. I always eventually remember my first impressions, and thought better of continuing. The ones whose lies thinly concealed feelings for me still write or call. Looking into their eyes, I can see my own wonder reflected back at me: what if I had said, "Stay"?

In this new city, I am convinced that the mistakes of my old life will repeat themselves. Surely I will screw up this relationship by avoiding what I know to be true. I worry that after all these years of friendship, the desire I felt to be here, in this relationship, will prove to be misled. I fret that, for both of us, this is just a way to escape loneliness and the uncertainty of our futures. And then I will have lost so much time, effort, a great love, and a close friend. I keep telling myself to prepare for the day when I can't wait to hear the word "stay" anymore, or worse, for when I can hear the ring of insincerity in it.