“I love you I love you I love the curls on your neck and the tilt of your head and the times when you laugh unguarded, the nervous energy of your bouncing leg and the cigarette you shift between your fingers. Talk until the morning, I will rearrange everything to hear your voice a little longer.
You probably think I’m a little girl. Damaged, unstable, dealing with some bad shit. Not what you want. I’m no sex machine, no honey pie sugar bear, no fantasy. I am terrifyingly human.
Don’t think I’m not what you want or need. I don’t know what you’re looking for in either regard, but I can be me and I think you’d like that. I hope you’d love it. I fear I am too obvious, but too subtle at the same time. You make me so nervous, you make me so giddy, you make me so refined. I try to be more eloquent, more intelligent, prettier, happier, softer, sweeter. Can I be the perfect level of intrigue for you? Will you forgive me for giving too much away, for keeping too much a secret? Will you still think I’m pretty with rumpled hair and sleep in my eyes? Can you ground me? Can I be enough for you?”
I feel like a Ming dynasty vase teetering on the edge of a shelf while a herd of 3 year olds are cavorting. shit.
I feel that terrible, dull ache of sadness again. Tonight’s the kind of night I’d like to spend walking aimlessly beneath the stars chain smoking with a friend. I’d like to talk about life: the losses, the gains, the perils and triumphs. I’d like the cold to sting my cheeks until they are rosy and fresh. I’d like my nose to be a little sniffly and my fingers a bit numb. I’d like to slide my hand into yours and share a silent, innocent moment, knowing we’re both existing in the same time, both feeling our lungs expand and contract, both feeling our hearts rushing to pump our bodies with life. I’d like to ponder consciousness with you and eventually laugh at our ignorance. When it’s all over and the sun begins to lighten the sky, I’d like to kiss your cheek and place my hand there as if to seal it in. We’d both hesitate and go our separate ways, taking our only comfort in knowing the other is also suspended in that fantasy realm of possibility. In that way we stay together for a while more before the daylight beckons us from the plane of dreams back into reality.
ah yes, a spider tried to kill me in the shower this morning. there were many shrieks of terror and one can only hope my neighbors don’t hate me now!
