I’m stuck

I wish the way you used to look at me was a drug I could overdose on, then I could get lost in the only world I want to be a part of.  The world where your stare was the reason my body could move.  The world where your lips was the reason I could breathe.  The world where you were the reason I lived lives and spoke words.

I wish I could over dose into your stare and never come back.  Don’t ever keep your eyes from me, the withdrawal could destroy me.

Love, sex & your look under moonlight

Your eyes have an orbit.  They’re heavy in gravity and darkness, and your lashes are bridges to the vastness of space.  I’m lost and I don’t want to be found.

Your stares feel warm like the sun.  When it’s gone though it haunts me.  A still picture of you in silence as you look me in the eyes and hold my gaze before turning away.  I can’t tell if a smile dripped from the corner of your lips or not.  It was probably just a memory being re-purposed.

You’re a 70’s girl with a 90’s past.  Your thick eyelashes and dark stares get me high.  I can’t say no, even if I wanted to.

Whenever I hear you I remember how to love someone I almost loved.  I can smirk at the absurdity of love as well and the audacity to look for it.  The spirits in your voice stir up the ghosts and they hold a glass in each other’s honor.  Everyone’s invited.  Past, present and future.

“Do you want to get some coffee?”

“I’m not really into coffee.”

I know that wasn’t the point of you asking, to go out for coffee, but I always felt the need to say it.  I didn’t like coffee.  It was almost a badge of honor in some cases.  Everyone around me gulping it down like fuel at the gas station.  Sloshing the troughs of cream and milk as stir sticks lay wasted on the counter.  Not me.  I’m good.

I’ve always had a natural state of alertness and didn’t feel the need for a morning pick me up.  Of course it comes and goes, and of course I could probably use some kind of pick me up, but I always felt that if I succumbed to the coffee bean devils then I’d become reliant on them.  I’d be a walking Starbucks zombie.

You were staring at me with a perplexed look on your face.  Shit, I did it again.

“Well I mean, like, I don’t really like coffee, but of course we can do something else.  If you want.  If you want coffee we can go get coffee, or like I don’t know, something.  I mean, I could get something.  I’m sure-, well like they have other stuff.  Did you want coffee?  We can do whatever.  It’s-, I’m-, like whatever you want.”

There, that ought to fix it.  Jesus.

She raised her eyebrow at me and stared for a decade or two.  Her lips were together and still.  She had the biggest, rounded eyes I had ever seen.  I believe people often described them as saucers, big and bright and a perfect circle.  While I’m staring back into her stare all I can think of is the moon and if it had a twin that lived alongside it.  Two giant celestial circles floating in the sky staring at me through a blanket of night black hair.

“You can get whatever you want.  You don’t need to get coffee.  It was just a front to talk.  Geez, calm down,” she hardened her stare enough that it was obviously in jest.

“Calm down?  I’ll definitely pass on the coffee then,” I smiled in response.

“Yeah, because you don’t drink it right?  You’re not really into it.  I heard that somewhere,” she said while turning to walk away.

“I can stand it in the right company.”

I followed the moon for coffee as it faded below the horizon.