Texas Reznikoff - Mitski

Your naked form was pressed against hers, her arms tightly wrapped around your body as you both lay there in the moonlight, with the soft breeze coming through the window. You didn’t even have to look up to know that she was staring at the bedside table, at the wedding photo and your wedding ring.

It’s been 12 years since it all started, and ever since then, your only comfort had been those hidden, late-night, secret meetups. It was so wrong yet felt so right, the way she always let you escape into that secret place. But at some point, you wanted, no, you needed to follow your duty, and so you married a man. He was a good man, but still a man, someone who could never be her.

“What is up with you?” She whispered into the quiet darkness, unable to tear her eyes away from the painful sight of your bedside table.

You hesitated for a moment, once again fascinated by her ability to read you down to the smallest detail. “We’re moving,” you whispered against her chest, knowing there was no point in lying to her. She froze at your words, her voice barely a whisper. “Where…?” “Texas,” you replied, fully aware that it was practically across the state, and that this would mean the end of everything.

Her heart shattered completely. She would have followed you anywhere, but she could hear in your tone that you didn’t want that. You wanted to leave her and everything behind. She could sense that you wanted to escape, escape from your true feelings, the ones you despised as much as you despised yourself.

“You’ll make it there. You’ll make it anywhere,” she whispered, biting back her tears and her urge to beg you to stay. She knew it was pointless—you could never commit to the home she tried to build for you.

But you knew her. And deep down, you knew this wasn’t what you truly wanted. You didn’t want to be anywhere. You always just wanted to be with her.