*533

You know, all I wanted to do, all I want to do, is to make you happy. To show you what it's like to wake up every morning with a smile on your face and a song in your heart. To put the 'i's in your 'happy's and dot them too. To paint a million rainbows in your sky.

But now I'm evicted, sitting nervously at the corner of this wooden table, nibbling on chocolate rice krispies, with Case Fare, Principles of Macroeconomics for company. R walks by with a question in his eyes (and we make polite conversation: we both know, but we pretend not to).

-

You come back and for a while, everything's okay, and everything will be. (Will it really?) That's what rainbows are for.

-

I turn on the music because I don't want to hear your pain. I wish you didn't have to hear mine too.

-

A few days later. Nothing's under covers anymore; everything's clear; we all know what should be done.

I've always known. I've always know what you want, what I want, what we pretend to want. Sometimes I feign stupidity because it's easier than accepting the truth. Sometimes I feign stupidity because my heart's not rational (my brain knows it well), and it screams to be heard.

You've never hurt me, but that doesn't stop me from hurting.