There’s something quite grand about your presence. You aren’t, and have never been, a beacon of ebullience, nor do you pretend to be. You’re actually quite somber. Your humor a tad dark, your lips withholding truths that might possibly set you free. Your heart is a pit of a glowing blaze, and your face is simply beautiful. You’re striking. You’ve struck me and I can’t say I’m all too pleased about that. You’re confusing in all your odd glory, but I can’t stop myself from drinking you in. Or, breathing in the sweaty scent that rests itself upon your neck, I can’t not want to lick you. Taste you.
I’ve been working on the art of restraint. I’ve been leaning toward being observant and understanding of your actions rather than spewing misguided emotions based on the falsehood of my tormented mind, and I can’t say I’m completely understanding of current happenings&unfortunate series of events. Your absence has moved me. It has left me stumped and my confidence is drowning in a puddle of murky water on the side of your heart. I hate what you’ve turned me into. Except it’s not really you, is it? I have come to realize that I do not know what love is. I do not know what it means to love, but my desires and my wants and the little things that feel like needs are pulling my sleeves and whimpering. They’re telling me that I feel strong things, but I won’t call it love.
I’ll be wise and leave the accumulation of the letters e, o, v, and l alone.
I’ve decided to lock them up in the rusty, wooden shed. I’m hoping the letters will collect dust, become obsolete and immediately removed from my word bank. For the time being, at least. Even still, I can’t help but to wonder how you’re choosing to use your time. I wonder if you wonder about me the way I wonder about you. Or if you’re wondering if I’m wondering about you. In case you’ve wondered, the answer is yes. If you haven’t wondered, the answer is no. The question is “how?” 10 steps forward, 20 steps back. The only thing is that my mind hasn’t retreated. It’s hasn’t followed suit and I’m still at step 9.
How we destruct ourselves in the flight of time.
I long to feel your lips pressed against mine. Your clammy hands exploring me, your laugh in my ear. I long to feel your warmth and the closeness we shared..the togetherness in individuality wrapped in sacred unity. Sweet memories for a harsh reality. It’s hard to forget. Have you forgotten? If only to take back words I thought were my allies, if only to retrieve time we believed belonged to us.
Make you return.
Without making you return.