Knots of Thoughts

He used to sleep with his back to me.

The first few nights it went unnoticed. But when insecurities about the security of our bond crept in, as they always do, the waves of my restful sleep broke against the wall of his back. Pressed between the contours of his scapula, hoping to erode the hardness of his spinal column, I prayed for signs.

And so when his hand reached for mine in the small hours of the morning, I exhaled. It was as if each finger locking into mine whispered a single word...

I

will

not

desert

you

So I believed him.

But the addition of his promises were as valueless and dishonest as his hands that night. That last interlock was instead a parting handshake. A pre-emble to his final goodbye: a sinful act of making love. Before he attempted to slip out of my life, as silent and unnoticed as he slipped in.