So he listened. And no one ever listens. And we’re sitting there, my head on his chest and I’m spewing words, uncovering layers of my mind that’d got buried in the rubble. See, my head, its been smacked around figuratively, and, well, not so figuratively, and so it tends to keep its head down. But he was listening, and I didn’t realize that was the magic key. You know, if I knew an ear that wasn’t tin but instead pooled my words into the head shaped indent on the pillow of their chest, I might have lifted my eyes and let my mouth hang agape sooner.

But then he started letting slip all these words like ‘I thought I’d never find this kind of connection.’ and ‘let me take care of you, I worry about you. You’re too sweet not to have someone love you. You need to take care of yourself’; and suddenly, if I could, I would have run, the words would have stopped. I looked at him and thought ‘do you have any idea what kind of emotional corpse you’ve dragged to your bed, you necrophiliac’. I’m talking to you, I am listening to this Bad Suns track, and I’m thinking how ironic it is that I’m asking you to ‘stab my evil dreams’  and you’re ‘transposing’ your thoughts of some saviour romantic complex on me.

“I come creeping, no one can hear you now
Listen, so you can show me how,
Something that I’m missing here”

And if you’re listening to my tales of trauma, and you were understanding them, what you would understand is that I’m not missing anyone to save me. You’ll find my heart bristles, my mind is far from mawkish, and that other third leg toy you enjoyed so much will run and flee from you at the mere mention of that. But see, that’s because no one really listens. They just transpose love thoughts where kindness, being a fellow human was all that mattered.

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