Oh Virginia

Do you know that song?  All of the men singing the same words.  Over and over again they say, “She loves me, yeah yeah yeah.  She loves me, yeah yeah yeah.”
Where do I find that sort of thing and how do I remember it in all the wrong ways?

To illuminate the soft crease of your lips.
To plunge into your nectar.
To fill the void.

The shadows are on the hazy edge and don’t need to be crept into nor revealed.  Let me remember you wrong in all the right ways.  She loves me, yeah yeah yeah.

They say all you need is love, but is that really true?
Maybe all you need is a tryst and a poor memory.

 

Integrity

All I do is repeat pretty words by people with minds much more beautiful than mine in ways that are far less articulate.  All I am good for is second rate bargain bins and what not to do’s.  All I can be is this person with their fingers on the keys typing out emotions that don’t quite click.

I wonder if the past dies as silently as the future.  The words are still there.  The smell fades pretty quickly.  The taste and look of you aren’t far behind.  Memories betray us like the sun will one day.  Burn me as I touch it’s face because I could not comprehend the heat that comes from something so far away.

Don’t ask me to explain myself, I’ll just let you down.
Everything in life is only seen through memories of people who tell stories better than me.  All I can do is repeat those pretty words.  All I am good for is swimming in the tears that pool along the bottom of your eyes.  This all makes sense.  Don’t worry, it will all make sense.

When 4 am is too early to go to bed

I don’t know if I can lust after you any more and that feeling is so strange.  The urge is there but the push to do it has faded.  You’re like a flower picked from the garden and wilting under the sun.  It used to be something quite pretty but now the petals are showing their weakness.  How much longer can you last?

This is tired, this whimpering lust.  The forced need to suck the blood from your lips after biting my way in.  Eye to eye so I can watch you flinch when the skin breaks.  I want it but only because of muscle memory.
We’re like a long drive in the middle of the night.  I need your voice to keep my eyes open and my mind sharp.  You’ve been asleep in the passenger seat and my eyelids are getting heavy.  Wake the fuck up, I need you.

So will you be gone eventually?  Just like the girl with the killer smirk and the devil woman?  Karen with the fluffy bra and the one with the legs and the smirk?  The misleading girl who injected so much into me?  Will you survive or will you be a memory of something I want to bring back but can’t seem to find?

Maybe not.  Perhaps it’s just a hot day and a little bit of cool air will bring back your color.  The pink and purple in your eyes.  The lift in your limbs.  You’re the one who survived the longest and if anyone has a second chance it’s going to be you.

So fucking awkward

I’m sorry.  I’m sorry for a lot of things but I’m sorry for being so weird.  I’m sorry for being so fucking awkward and nervous.  It’s just that I don’t know how to talk to you.  It’s like I don’t know how to talk at all.  Putting sentences together when you’re around is like trying to do complicated math equations.  You’re my trigonometry and I don’t have anyone’s homework to copy this time.

Mainly I’m just saying sorry for liking that picture of you at the lake four years ago.  Yes, I was stalking your profile.  Yes, I do it all the time.  Yes, it’s always from that summer.  That was the summer I fell in love with you.  It was from a distance and I never told you, not to this day.  It would weird you out so I thought it was best a burden I kept myself.

We always talked before.  We knew each other and were friends.  We hung out as part of a group.  But that summer you started wearing two piece bathing suits.  Your grew what seemed like two feet and your hair went all the down your back.  It shined almost white in the sun and matched the reflection of the water.

So yes, I’m obsessed with you.  At least I am from a distance.  I’ll go on doing that because we could never happen.  Even if by some miracle it did, it would be over just as fast.  I don’t know if I could take having memories of you and I together without the possibility of more.  I’ll keep on speaking of your beauty.  I’ll write about your perfection.  I’ll immortalize you in words.  I hope they do you justice and aren’t just as awkward sounding as I am in my head when scrolling through your pictures.

Our ebb and flow

In one of my future failed relationships I hope to remember to count how many times we’ve kissed.  Whoever it is, whenever it is and for however long it lasts I want to keep track of the number of times our lips touched and to the varying degrees.

  • How often their tongue slid along mine.
  • How many pecks on the cheek turned into pecks on the lips.
  • The different ways their tongue pressed into mine.
  • The number of times they pushed back,
  • and the number of times they gave in.

I think it would be a nice thing to look back on and reminisce.  Kisses mean so much in the moment but there aren’t a lot that are remembered, yet when they’re gone and you can’t get them back you miss them sorely.

Of course I’m talking about you again.  When am I not?
You’re my never ending anthology.  You make the words flow like a river out to the sea.

I’ve written about the times we kissed and the times our lips were busy doing other, less respectable actions.  Now I’m writing about how I miss them and how I miss you.  But above all else are your lips.  I miss the way you kissed me back when I give my life against your mouth.

I hope you’re well.  I hope someone is kissing those lips until it hurts the way you liked it.

Against my better judgement

There are times we must say goodnight to things that once made us happy but have lost the ability to do so.  We often don’t want to, but moving on is the only way to keep the pleasant memories as they are.

If we linger they spoil.

Sometimes a smile is all we have left.

The heart wants what it wants

May 2017:  What do I want?  You!  When do I want it?  Now!

June 2017:  What do I want?  You!  When do I want it?  Now!

July 2017:  What do I want?  You!  When do I want it?  Now!

August 2017:  What do I want?  You!  When do I want it?  Now!

September 2017:  What do I want?  You!  When do I want it?  Now!

October 2017:  What do I want?  You!  When do I want it?  Now!

November 2017: …

December 2017: …

January 2018:   What do I want?  Everything!  When do I want it?  Now!

February – September 2018: What do I want?  It all to go back to how it was.  When do I want it?  Months ago.

October 2018:  What do I want?  Someone else?  When do I want it?  Now?

November 2018:  What do I want?  I have no idea.  When do I want it?  Now.

December 2018:  What do I want?  You!  When do I want it?  Now!

January 2019:  What do I want?  Nothing to change!  When do I want it?  Forever!

February 2019:  What do I want?  Nothing to change!  When do I want it?  Forever!

March 2019:  What do I want?  These fucking games to end.  When do I want it?  Now!

April 2019:  What do I want?  You, I think.  When do I want it?  I’m not sure anymore.

Too many to count

Fleeting little memories

or tumbling down the deep.

Some I’ve held their hand

and to some I’ll never speak.

Torn past

it’s all they share.

Lorn forward

I alone.

We shared a bit of something

with nothing left to show.