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>>Boys Donıt Cry >> >> A stillness befalls the room. Now that the >>television is off, the dead leaves on the ground his >>only company, he realizes that someone is walking >>outside. It is the someone it always is, her petite >>frame sheltering the unrecognizable strength--and >>anger--she bears. He thinks maybe he should open the >>door just as she lays her hand on it; you know, >>surprise her. But he does not do that. He remains on >>the couch, in his omnipresent black drapery. >> The door shifts open, metal scrapes lightly on stone, >>and she enters. He does not even turn to look at her. >> Her face is a rose, the beauty of one, the body of >>one, sweet yet thorny, tough yet vulnerable. It >>occurs to him that it should not matter if he looks at >>her. Her face is there no matter what, so he decides >>to view it in its corporeal form. >> ³Spike...² she surprisingly speaks first. Maybe not >>all that surprising, but she used to wait till he said >>hello, or some sort of greeting, no matter how terse. >>No, he was wrong. He looks, and now the rose pricks >>his eyes. Boys donıt cry, he reminds himself. Boys >>donıt cry. >> Itıs a stupid thing heıs had to tell himself >>recently, since he let feelings, let her, into his >>body again. The last time she showed up here, the >>³real² last time, where she said this relationship, >>term used loosely, was killing her, has barely been >>remembered because it has not yet been forgotten. It >>has only been a week, maybe two. Spike never has >>taken much stock in time, not since it was less to him >>than dirt. Suddenly, the words pour out like a >>fountain or a rill of blood, the latter being >>something he is more familiar with. >> ³I would say I'm sorry, if I thought that it would >>change your mind. >>But I know that this time I've said too much, been too >>unkind. I try to laugh about it, cover it all up with >>lies. I... I try to laugh about it...² he wonders >>why heıs saying this, why heıs hiding the tears in his >>eyes. Itıs not as though she, or many other people, >>hasnıt seem them before. He begins his >>rationalization in his own mind again: Cause boys >>don't cry. Boys don't cry. >> ³Look, Spike, you donıt need to do any of that stuff. >> You donıt even need to think about me. I did the >>same for you.² >> ³I would break down at your feet and beg forgiveness, >>plead with you, but I know that it's too late, and now >>there's nothing I can do. So I try to laugh about it, >>cover it all up with lies. I try to laugh about >>it...² Boys don`t cry. >> ³Spike, I know. And now I know twice, Œcause youıre >>repeating yourself.² >> No break from his response, ³I would tell you that I >>loved you if I thought that you would stay, but I know >>that it's no use, that you've already gone away. Iıve >>misjudged your limits, pushed you too far, took you >>for granted. I thought that you needed me more.² >> ³I... I donıt want to hear this anymore. I donıt >>want to say what Iıve said to you already. You have >>to know that what you are saying is... is...² >>Unfinishable sentence. >> ³Now I would do most anything to get you back by my >>side, but I just >>keep on laughing, hiding the tears in my eyes.² Cause >>boys don't cry. Boy don't cry. >> ³Goodbye, Spike. I came here to try to explain to >>you, one more time, that itıs over. That there wasnıt >>even anything between us. That we need to stop >>whatever this is. And now I know I was right about >>this only being one more time, when I thought that it >>was going to be the last time.² >> She leaves swiftly through the still open door, and >>all Spike can do is watch. He canıt stop her with >>this molten liquid running down his cheeks, burning >>his face. He needs to tell himself again. Boys donıt >>cry. >> >> >>(Boys Don't Cry by The Cure)

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