Seeing You

I wonder what goes through your head when you see me.
Do you really see me? Do your eyes slide away, seeking a less intimate gaze?
I wonder if you are suspicious of my motives.
Do you think I want you, hate you, miss you, accuse you?

Would it surprise you - seeing you, I feel silly and joyous?
My lips twist in a private quirk of a smile, and a bubble of a laugh
seeks its way up into the corners of my eyes.

I think of the stories and misdirections we told each other.
Were you making up the things you thought I wanted to hear,
as I was probably doing? You wanted the sex. I wanted it too.

Why do people lie to one another? It seems one night, two bodies, three hours, was enough for you. I love sex. One night is never enough for me.
I have few secrets. Very very few. I'm dreadful at keeping them.

I think it's the idea of a secret that makes me smile. And the memory of you.
Big. Thorough, direct, taking your satisfaction without regard for mine.
I enjoyed it, though. Sometimes, it's good to be used.
I took you into my bed knowing that I'd feel that way - so smile. I'm content.