The Real Deal

He sits acrosss me
Twisting and shifting in his seat
Wanting to be there, wanting to give me more
I can't help but notice that his eyes are on the door
He's fighting, inside. His breathing is heavy
He sighs
He caresses my cheek, smiles and kisses me softly
His curls tangle in his fingers, tucking them behind his ears
I see he really wants something he knows he shouldn't and it eats him up inside
If I had any sense, I'd get up and leave
If my heart had any compassion I wouldn't even collude like this
But I'm a masochist
I have found comfort and solace in hurt
Pain is dependable; you know it'll show up.
You know what to expect
It's like an old high heel shoe, it knows the grooves of your feet and it fits you. But it hurts, you know at the end of the day it hurts
It pinches, it'll ruin your knees, your back. It alters your feet
You're not the same anymore, and at a certain point you're not the same without the pain anymore
Your cynicism is the fuel for the vehicle of suffering
Your distrust are the tires
Your past experiences is the steering wheel
Bad memories hang from the mirror like a month old car freshener's smell you vaguely recall
Yet you revel in sweet torture in exchange for a moment of love and connection
You jump off of that cliff each time, plummeting, only to climb back up and repeat... ad nauseum

Maybe you jump because you think one of these days you'll soar