Things I Wish I Never Showed You
About the strength of being vulnerable
Sometimes I wish I never showed you how vulnerable I can get. I wish I just played it cool. I wish you hadn’t seen me cry and I wish you didn’t know how sad my whole body gets when I think of something painful. I wish you weren’t able to tell when I was hurting and I wish I hadn’t told you how much you meant to me.
I wish I hadn’t shown you how easily you could hurt me, and how easily you could make me happy. I wish you hadn’t told me I was the only one who understood you and I wish I hadn’t known you were being honest about it. I wish we’d never shared ideas on our values and mostly I wish we’d never seen how similar they were. I wish we hadn’t spoken about a future together. I wish we never had the longest conversations about feminism, politics and philosophy. I wish I never knew how your touch would feel on my skin and I wish I’d never seen that light in your eyes. I wish you hadn’t held me so tight I felt like my ribs would break. I wish you had never kissed me on my head. I wish you hadn’t looked for my body next to yours at night. I wish you hadn’t woken up, after just a 2 hours sleep, only to ask me if I was okay ‘why aren’t you in bed with me?’. I wish we’d never fallen asleep holding hands and I wish we’d never watched anime together. I wish you hadn’t held my body so tight to yours that I started aching but I wish moving away from that comfortable and familiar warmth hadn’t been too hard. I wish my body didn’t fit yours so perfectly and I wish we had not synchronised our sleep. I wish I didn’t know how your body moved to adjust to my movements at night. I wish you hadn’t told me about your family, about how proud you are of your brothers, how protective you’re of your sister and how much you love your mum. I wish I didn’t know about your difficult relationship with your father and I wish I didn’t see that sad light in your eyes when you said ‘he’s setting the example for the kind of father I don’t want to be’. I wish we had been a bit more different, that we had not focused on the same things and that understanding you would have been harder.
I wish you hadn’t walked in front of me in a crowd, especially given how scared I get having to make my way through and I wish you hadn’t held my hand the whole way. I wish I didn’t know how your lips taste after you’ve sipped your beer and I wish I couldn’t picture the leftover foam on your lips. I wish you hadn’t kissed me holding my face in your hands and I wish you hadn’t been able to see right through me.
I wish I could think of someone else without the memory of you making it bittersweet and I wish I could have sex with another man without having to stop the tears from coming out. I wish I was able to still look another man in the eyes during sex — but all I can do now, is look away. I wish someone else’s hands wouldn’t feel so wrong on my body, so wrong that I would feel the need to move away from them. I wish I had not laid in bed night after night longing for your touch, the memory of you so fresh I could easily feel you next to me. I wish I had the strength to stop leaving my ringtone on at night in the hope you’d call.
But above all, I wish I had never felt home with you.
But there’s strength in being vulnerable, and I’m glad I still have this strength.