the difference between what we do and don’t.

When the music is up, and the lights are low, and the people around us are too drunk to notice, and the alcohol has just barely settled, and the kisses down my neck start to get a little more intense, we don’t go back to my room. We don’t walk back holding hands, stumble in laughing, lock the door, shut off the lights, pull on each other, try and get closer because any closer wouldn’t even remotely be close enough. We don’t layout on my bed, you don’t get on me, we don’t kiss, suck, bite, lick. We don’t play with handcuffs for the sake of entertainment and we don’t make small talk. We don’t cuddle and fall asleep, we don’t wake up the next morning together, you don’t stay and sleep for an hour or so after I have to leave. These moments don’t exist. Because if they did, we wouldn’t keep an arms length away from each other in public. If they did, we might just kiss and everyone might be watching. If we did, you might tell some of your close friends that I’m different compared to everyone else. But only if you really thought so, and even if anything did happen between us, who’s to say the things you say when we’re alone together are true. Who’s to say we’re ever alone together? Because if these moments were true, why would we continue to act as though they don’t and never did exist? And who’s to say I care either way?