First message
I crack my bedroom door open slowly when I hear it—-those ecstasy filled whimpers echoing from your room, from the woman you are making love too. My sleepy emerald eyes blown up wide in curiosity and a deep envy. I don’t understand what’s happening beyond your bedroom door. Not really. My religion has always been a pure, safe shelter away from intimacy. But I do know your affections are being shown towards another woman. I feel useless in my own body, like I wasn’t received a handbook to understand the passion beyond your bedroom door. My stomach twists uncomfortably, her odd noises loud in my ears—-like a never needing taunting laugh, reminding me of the unconditional love I hold for you, and the fact that your love is being shown to another when I so desperately wish It were me you were showing such affections to. My dainty fingers bunch in the soft fabric of my baby green grass as I step out into the hall, my bare feet silent against the polished floorboards, aching to follow the sounds of you rather than her. Not following her noises, but yours. I press my flushed cheek gently against your bedroom door, yearning to be closer to you. Don’t you see me? Don’t you know how much I love you? How much I fantasize of a beautiful life with you? How much I dream of carrying our children? The door is cold against my flushed skin, but for a moment I imagine it’s you i’m holding.