There are so many things Ray doesn't know about Bob
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
…I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way than this:
where I do not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.”
- Pablo Neruda
You do not know the way you shake my bones. You do not know the sweetness of your own mouth, nor do you know the lovely blueprints of your body. You do not understand the heady, weak feeling that washes over me when you walk into a room. You do not recognise the sound of a drum when it is my heart slamming against my ribcage. You do not know these things because I have not told you. I have not told you, because I fear your response. Because after all, it’s just sex, right?
There is no possible way for you to know how I think of you. You don’t know that I bury my face in the pillows after you’ve gone just to keep breathing you. You don’t know that I hold onto you so tightly because I am afraid of losing even this, I am afraid of losing what we do not have. You don’t know that I have become obsessed with counting down the seconds to the end of each night together, simply so that I won’t feel the abruptness of your departure.
You don’t know that I love the way you say my name, the way it falls from your lips. It’s almost reverent. Over and over, like a tiny little prayer that it won’t end, not just yet. We pray for different reasons. You pray that the sex will not end, and I pray that the night will not fall, because it falls so heavy every time. The moon rises and sends you on your way and since your back is turned to me as you walk away, you don’t know that I blow you a kiss as the door clicks shut.
You don’t know a lot about me. You don’t know much beyond what’s in my pants, and maybe you like it that way. You don’t know that I had a pet fish called Fred when I was younger, and you don’t know that I accidentally killed him by overfeeding him. You don’t know that I have a perpetual fear of spiders and you don’t know what my favourite food is. You don’t know my middle name or my birth date and you don’t know that I used to be afraid of thunderstorms, because I thought the rain would sweep me away. You don’t know that I used to be afraid to swing too high on the swings, for fear that I would fly into outer space. Above all, you don’t know that I am very afraid of telling you all of these things because the thing I am most afraid of in the world is losing you in any capacity.
Maybe I will tell you all of these things one day soon, because there is one thing that I do need you to know. I need you to know that I love you. I need you to know that I am in love with you. So totally and utterly and madly in love with you and I can’t explain it. Because there are a lot of things I don’t know as well. I don’t know the moment when it happened and I don’t know why it did. I don’t know where I was when I realised it, and I don’t know what I did when I figured it out. All I know is that it’s real and that most of what you don’t know doesn’t matter because in the end, all you really need to know is that I love you.