Blue Hearts 2k16 (My Collection of Poems And Short Stories)

She Doesn't Love You

She tells stories of Him as we sit in bed together.

I have always admired her respect for Him.

But there are times when our light conversations turn into lyrical praises of Him.

It’s not that I don’t like Him.

Hearing the repeated phrases and countless fondness of Him tends to make the discussion tiresome.

But I listen anyway.

As she continues to talk, I tend to the knots and twists in her back.

My hands finding precise and accurate places to please her.

At moments like this,

I can see her eyes glitter as she says His name.

The sparkle in her aura is noticeable and I smile.

But not once does my voice resound.

The room echoes with her passionate ranting.

A small voice in the back of my head whispers,

“She doesn’t love you.”

My hands falter on her back.

I silence the voice by pressing on the sore spots on her with more concentration.

I always enjoy listening to her speak,

Especially when she smiles.

It makes her look younger.

Sometimes I wonder why she’s so doting when it comes to Him.

I guess she craves for someone to depend on her.

It’s odd that she finds that trait admirable.

She says she treasures those who find peace when they come to her.

She sees Him as someone who’s innocent and disciplined.

Whenever He comes to her for comfort.

Her words become silky and quiet.

She would wrap her arms around Him and tell him that there’s nothing to worry about.

She feels like she’s needed when she’s with Him.

She feels like she should protect Him from evil and shelter Him from the all despairs of this world.

I always question her opinions.

I guess she finds my independence distasteful.

I guess she finds my stone heart disturbing.

I guess she misunderstood my strong words and reassurances.

She probably thought that my proud stature meant that I was impenetrable.

Because I never heard a word of comfort from her.

“She doesn’t love you.”

The voice says again.

This time I listened to the bitterness in its tone.

I let my eyes wander on her face for a while.

Her expression bright and youthful.

Although she isn’t looking at me,

Anyone could tell that she was happy.

“She doesn’t love you.”

I don’t like listening to the voice,

And I especially don’t like that fact that it speaks the truth.

I'm glad that she finds enjoyment when she talks about Him.

It really makes me relieved that she’s smiling more.

But not once did she smile at me.

And although she brightens my day when she’s careless and free,

It reminds me that she’s not like that because of me.

“She doesn’t love you.”

She asks me why my hands have stopped moving.

I apologize and continue kneading her muscles.

Even though it’s quite upsetting that I’ll never be the object of her affection.

It’s okay.

I don’t mind.

I have many things to say and comment on,

But it’s fine.

As long as she’s satisfied and delighted.

I’ll do my best to keep her cheerful.

Her words of ecstatic excitement of Him continue.

And I let out well rehearsed chuckles at her giggles from time to time.

When she turns around to look at my expression,

I give her a tight lipped smile.

She turns back around and keeps on talking.

Her eyes were soft and gentle as her lips formed around syllables.

If she had continued to look at me,

She would have saw my eyes glisten a little as I watched her speak.

“She doesn’t love you.”