Secret Words

It’s been awhile. It’s been more than awhile, actually. More like a year. And I’m sorry in more ways than one, because writing is how I let go, is how I relax and reform my thoughts about what’s happening around me. So, to apologise ever so slightly, here is something that I have just written and kinda wanted to share. It’s complete fiction, and I genuinely don’t know where it came from other than the fact that I had the words, “tell me a secret” in my mind. I wrote them down, and this is what they led to. I hope you like it.

 

“Tell me a secret,” you whispered as you moved your head from your pillow to my shoulder.
“Why should I? You know them all already, anyway.”
“I want to hear your words,” you said. And so I sighed and told you about the night I’d gotten horribly drunk in my first year of university and had missed all of my lectures. You shook your head, your hair brushing my face.
“Not that kind. A real secret. One that means something.”
“And who are you to say what’s real and what’s not?”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then why don’t you say what you mean for a change.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“The words won’t fit,” you cried, and your tears streamed from your eyes onto my shirt, leaving the rivers between us in their wake.