Friends with Benefits

I have no commitment to you. At least not in a traditional sense. But that doesn't mean I'm not committed to you. To your smile and overall happiness. Because I'd be lying if I said I didn't worry about you when it's late and I have a break in thought from everything else that consumes me. And when I’m busy and rushing through my day I often pause to take note of you. I note how you hold back from me and almost never tell whole truths. Keeping just enough for yourself in the hopes that you'd remain protected. But I know you. I know when you're stressed, when you're sad and when you hurt. I can even tell when you lie. When you smile at me and say all is well, but tuck away the doubt your kisses give away. I was apart of your life before we agreed to pleasure without love. And we quickly learned that pleasing one another and loving one another are two completely different things. That me pleasing you and you me is not love at all. But we grew in places we didn't know existed. And felt in ways we never expected. And believed somehow that as long as we never said the words we'd break no vows and would remain true to that commitment. To never love. To avoid the hurt. To leave the drama that comes with those words we'd never say somewhere buried where it belongs and away from our uncomplicated lives. We've convinced ourselves that saying those words gives power to them. Power that would consume this thing we've built on denial and a commitment. And we agreed we’d tell each other when resisting and denying became too hard to do. But you're well past that point. I can tell. And although I could meet you halfway and confess I've past that place as well, I refuse to take the first step. Because I don't want to break our agreement and muddy this thing we've created when we thought loving and pleasing were two completely different things. Truth is I can't please you this way without loving you that way. In that way where I can't say the words and am restricted to a language that involves kisses and caresses that scream your name and whisper confessions in your ears. Although you don't say the words I feel them when you're with me. My pleading eyes seek out the letters as I stare at your lips. But you won't say the words. And neither will I. Because that's not what we agreed to. We said we'd enjoy the pleasures of our bodies entwined, but that we'd never cross that line. That invisible line. That when the words became symbols of something more than just functional and task oriented we'd let it go and break it off. But we're well past the breaking point and we both know it. You haven't said a word and I will never speak our truth. But you also won’t let go of me and I won’t let go of you. We have an agreement; a commitment to one another. A commitment to please without love. And loving and pleasing are two completely different things.