Without Your Skin

by Mel



I look out into the crowd yet another night, not able to make eye contact with anyone but it's OK, because I can sing. That's what I do. I'm a musician. I've never claimed to be good at anything else in my life. In fact, I will tell you I'm terrible at a lot of things--I just stick with what I'm best at. I sing. I know she's out there in the audience, watching me, probably mesmerized by my voice and sometimes I honestly don't have a clue why. She said that was when she fell for me, all those months ago and I being me, believed her.

I don't waste my time making flirtatious smiles or even winks. I just sit on my stool and play my guitar, my fingers moving rhythmically, exactly how I taught them to. I concentrate on the lyrics because those are the things that matter to me. They hold the most power, tell the best story because let me tell you, there are a million things I cannot say out loud.

I go on, strumming what's been called 'a beautiful acoustic melody', and voicing the words I wrote by hand in a coffee shop not that long ago as I sipped on some hot tea. We'll just say that this silly little thing they call music, is my one and only escape. It takes me away from all the confusion, the drama, the words I can't say. Basically, it brings me back to the days before I met her.

The day I met Leah.

It seemed everything changed for me that day. It was a typical night for me, playing at the club I had hoped to be 'discovered' at. I was just having fun with my friends, shooting the breeze like every other night. It wasn't till after I sang that she approached me, long brown curly hair, blue eyes so clear that it freaked me out a little but I will say, she was gorgeous. What I couldn't figure out was, why she wanted me. Here I was, a twenty something boy with a guitar who got hung up on writing pretty love songs and she still wanted me.

That seems like so long ago.

Our relationship has been somewhat interesting to say the least. We've been up and down, broken up, and back together so many times I've lost count but for some reason, it works for us. She wanted me when I was a nobody and now, I'm somewhat of a somebody. I mean I've managed to put out a few albums under and indie label and I'm popular to my fair share of fans but it's taken me a lifetime to gain those fains. Lead has been with me since the beginning, since I was nobody.

But that doesn't make up for the mess that's known as our relationship.

I will admit, I've never been so swept up in a girl before. Before you get ahead of me, I don't mean 'swept up' in the romantic, hearts and love and candy type of thing. In fact, I've meant to get as far away from that title as possible. You see, I am a man and apparently, I can't say things when I think them and to tell you the truth, I'm not even sure I do. Sometimes, I think I stick around for the sex because with Leah, there is a sense of security there for me.

She always comes back to me, open arms, begging me to take her back and each time, I crumble. I am a weak man, I tell you.

I've layed there, after she was asleep a countless number of times after having sex and I've wondered what the hell I was doing there. She considers the bed we sleep in, 'our bed' but that definition freaks the hell out of me. Like I said, I'm a man and I will also tell you I'm an ass hole because after all we've been through, I still have never told her that I loved her.

Don't ask me why because I can't give you a definite answer. All I can tell you is that I can write pretty love songs, but face to face the words just won't leave my lips. Coward, I know. A part of me thinks I stay because I don't want to be alone. I hate starting over in a relationship. All the awkward moments, the dating, the getting to know the other.

With Leah it's always been easy. We met, we had drinks that night, and I was waking up beside her in a hotel room the next day. Like I said, asshole. I know I am.

I've watched her cry a number of times through all of our fights, make ups, break ups, screaming matches, you name it. I know she doesn't deserve this at all. She needs a guy who can love her properly and maybe even say the words. Like I said, I know I don't deserve her as my own but I told you I'm selfish. I like waking up beside her, having her want me, having her be there for me when I need her, support my career even when I do something that completely sucks, it just fits in my messed up head. I'd never tell her this, but the thought of being without her scares me to death.

I've reminisced on the nights where her naked skin lay against mine, sweaty and damp from our previous activities and I know in my head, no one else will feel like that against me. I know that no one else lips will feel like hers do when they kiss me in the morning. All my reasons completely selfish but that's just how I am. I've asked myself time and time again if I could ever possibly love Leah and I know deep down in my 'all about me' cold heart that I do. It's just saying the words that scare the hell out of me. She's never once asked me why I've never said them to her but I can tell she wonders. I can see the hurt in her eyes when she says it to me and I don't say it back. I just smile and nod, and buss her in some sentimental way. Maybe it's enough for her. But I know someday it won't be.

I feel like the clock is ticking until one day she wakes up and realizes what a selfish bastard I am and leaves. I just hope that day is later, rather than sooner because like I said, I don't function without Leah.

I continue to play, finishing my set and accept the group of applause I receive and it reminds me every time, just exactly why I do this. These people, my fans-- they get lost just like I do. They drown in the music, the lyrics, the sounds that can only come from the an acoustic guitar.

My friends all follow me off the stage, handing me a drink and once I turn to the left, theres Leah, luminous smile, just waiting for me. She goes to kiss me, in congratulations and I don't know why but I turn my face, making her meet me cheek. Wow, I really am an ass. For some reason, the public display of affection defines us as way too much. Call me selfish once again, but I prefer to keep the mess that we are to be behind closed doors, tangled up in sheets where words aren't even necessary.

Asshole. I know.

I can tell she's hurt by this but she just takes it as a grain of salt, not letting anyone see her pain or fear. I will never know why that woman puts up with me though I think it might have something to do with love. A love that's completely one sided.

She waits for the right moment to slip in between me and the swarm of people that's around me and tells me she'll meet me at 'home' whenever I'm done. To add to the even more odd dynamic our of our relationship, we even live together. I'm gone most of the time, doing shows, writing, recording so all in all, it works out, for me anyways.

I watch her walk away, and I can tell just by her posture that she's hurt but in a sick way, I'm glad she'll be there for me when I get home. She's always there for whatever it is I need.

Another drink is shoved in my hand and I don't even know what it is but it sure tastes bitter. I continue to bullshit and have a good time with my friends, watching other performers throughout the night. It's not uncommon for other women to walk up to me, flirtatious and willing but sometimes inside of me has never been able to leave with any of them. Leah and I aren't even a couple. I don't even know what we are. Today it's one thing, tomorrow it could be totally different. You'd think that give me free reign to sleep with whoever but it doesn't. Trust me, I've thought about it but like I said, no one compares to Leah.

Several hours later, I'm stumbling up the stairs to our apartment. Most nights, she'd be waiting for me to bump into something and come help my drunk or buzzed ass inside but tonight, I trip and fall, my guitar tumbling down the steps and I wait for her to come and rescue me but she doesn't come. It takes me brain a little bit to register this but once I finally make my way on two feet, I'm convinced that I might be able to do this on my own. Just maybe..

I fumble with the key for what seems like hours and finally make it inside but my surroundings are dark. Leah always left the light on, because more times than not, she was almost always waiting for me. Something just doesn't feel right. I blindly get the door open, fumbling once again and cursing to myself as I bump into the stand beside the couch. I finally get a light turned on, cursing as it stings my eyes and I look around seeing her no where in site. I may be buzzed, and even a little drunk but my body begins to tremble a little at where this is all leading to. I finally make it to the bedroom and it takes me two seconds to realize that all her things are gone and theres a note laying neatly on my pillow. I bite my lip, mentally preparing myself for what I'm about to read because it's going to hurt. I'm not stupid.

I finally pick up the white piece of notebook paper, reading her hastily scribbled message and I bite my lip to stop the tears.

Dear JC,

I've tried to stick around for as long I could and give you everything I knew how. I loved you with everything in me and in return I received nothing. I can't live like this. I deserve better.
I hope you find whatever it is your looking for in life because it obviously wasn't me.

Leah

Before I know it, the note has been crumbled into a ball in my fist and the tears are now welling up in my bloodshot eyes. I look around 'our' bedroom once again and everything is already so different. It doesn't feel the same without her things, I can hardly smell her perfume that used to linger all the time and her shoes are no longer by the closet. I turn around, my steps feeling like they weigh a ton and it almost brings me to my knees when I realize the one thing Leah did leave. On the stand beside our bed is a picture of us, sitting in a silver picture frame, big smiles, looking in love. I remember that day like it was yesterday. I had dragged her to some charity that one of my producers was throwing and we dressed up, got dolled up and instead of having the boring time I had anticipated, I ended up having a blast that night. We danced, sipped wine, and just got lost in the beauty of one another.

Had I been honest to myself, I'd say that was the night I officially fell in love with her. I never told her this, but in my head, and in my heart, I knew. I don't even try to prevent the sob that emits from my throat and right now, it's almost all to real and too heavy. Leah is gone all because I am a dumb ass who lives in some scared little bubble with pretty selfish feelings. I walk over, grabbing the picture frame and simply stare as random tears bounce off the glass.

It all makes perfect sense right now. I love Leah and I always have. I was just too much of a scared little boy to tell her. I could try to fix it but in reality I know that some things in life are not meant to be fixed. I can't go back and make up for the way I treated her. I know through all of this, she'll learn what kind of man not to fall in love with and maybe find her one that gives her everything I couldn't. I fall on to the bed, one that's now filled with memories that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I clutch the frame to my chest, knowing it's the only thing I have left of us, and all of the things we never were.

Without your skin I'm naked...