Prose

I Cannot See My Future Because There Isn't One

I told you I loved you when we were three thousand miles from home because I knew you wouldn't see the lies dancing on my tongue when you can look at the beautiful buildings towering above you. I knew you wouldn't care that I lied because the city lights shine brighter than my eyes ever did. I told you I loved you there because I didn't want to stain my carpets with deceit and I know if I didn't let you into my house, you couldn't find a way into my heart. I told you I loved you while we sat in foreign restaurants, knowing that you would remember how good the food was before you'd remember my name. I suppose I told you I loved you so far from home because I didn't want to return to a place where my lies hang in the air with the smokers' breath. I only lied because there will be a day that comes when you look at my face and you don't immediately recall why you loved me and that will be the day I leave and I will not leave behind my pristine carpets and painted walls. I will not give you the key to the one thing I have because I cannot love the mortal souls that strive for something more than me. And I cannot see myself smiling because I am happy with someone that will not love me tomorrow, though I swear to love them today.
I told you I loved you three thousand miles from home because when our plane spirals through clouds and plummets toward the winedark sea, all my sins will wash away just like the sand I drew our names in.

December 3, 2014 12:10am; will I still be me when I'm 29?