silverdagger (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
silverdagger) wrote2003-12-21 11:13 am
silverdagger) wrote2003-12-21 11:13 am
(no subject)
My lips are dry and cracking, but unfortunately not from a surfeit of kisses. Merely the weather that sends my hair unruly and bites every time I brush against something metal.
Perhaps I expect too much. Winter is no less busy than any other season for either of us, and we are not schoolboys any longer by many years...I suppose I should be content when he is home merely to have his company.
But his company is not all I want; particularly when I must count those times he's sitting silent reading a book, or speaking only of the weather at supper, or crouched on the floor murmuring endearments to the cat as being company.
Oh, very well, so I am high maintenance. But it is nothing new; both of us knew that coming into this, have always known it. As a friend he had more than enough time to humour me, and now we live together and it seems he has either no time or...no interest, perhaps.
I get only a peck on the lips when he comes home and it is not enough. Or a murmured goodnight from across a suddenly too-spacious bed and it is not enough.
It is likely I ask too much. More likely still that he is totally unaware he's given any cause for complaint, and I must spell out my silly fears for him.
Sometimes I remember all too keenly that he is quite literally all I have.
Perhaps I expect too much. Winter is no less busy than any other season for either of us, and we are not schoolboys any longer by many years...I suppose I should be content when he is home merely to have his company.
But his company is not all I want; particularly when I must count those times he's sitting silent reading a book, or speaking only of the weather at supper, or crouched on the floor murmuring endearments to the cat as being company.
Oh, very well, so I am high maintenance. But it is nothing new; both of us knew that coming into this, have always known it. As a friend he had more than enough time to humour me, and now we live together and it seems he has either no time or...no interest, perhaps.
I get only a peck on the lips when he comes home and it is not enough. Or a murmured goodnight from across a suddenly too-spacious bed and it is not enough.
It is likely I ask too much. More likely still that he is totally unaware he's given any cause for complaint, and I must spell out my silly fears for him.
Sometimes I remember all too keenly that he is quite literally all I have.