Today you touched me one more time
I'm not sure how long we hugged
It is unexplainable
Of being wanted
I wish you would come back
And hold me
So this time
To never turn back
Can't you see I don't care what it does to me?
I want you to use me
To keep me confused
To keep me locked in limbo with no prospect of heaven
This as good as it will likely get
Floating into the blind, white abyss
At least there is time to think here
I hope the numbness kicks in soon.
I take the last drag of the cigarette, for a second my mind is not weighed
Flicking the end into the snowdrift of others, I exhale.
When I do, I release what you said to me behind the waterfall
And the tree in Miranda's back yard cemetery, on Halloween, where you had me pressed
(You wanted to kiss me but I wouldn't let you)
Playing with a big-eyed, bewildered baby on a plastic slide
Holding your camera for you and watching you bloom
Embracing you on my front porch in the cold, in the hot, in the rain when we had placed our hands on each other's heart, followed by an unfathomably brilliant strike of lightning and a clap of thunder to seal the deal.
I'm not innocent
But I do feel like a victim
I cried for a week
That's not my thing
Who invented tears?
I couldn't tell you if they were a genius or a vindictive villain
Like acid, when they fall out of my eyes
Although it's almost ******* to release
What I had been trying to keep in a card board box
In my throat.
It's time to move out
Don't forget to write.
You danced with me on a bridge that night. Tiny paper dolls with eyes painted to stay still, to only see each other. I wanted you to dance because you decided in that moment. But you didn't. You knew long ago that we'd be together on that bridge. You scheduled it (as you did everything else). You hadn't looked at me in that minute and decided we should dance. You had already lived that moment. You were thinking of the next. I wish I could have been there for the dance you imagined. It must have been nice.
I carefully traced the hem of your shirt with the pads of my fingers
You weren't wearing it of course;
It was a gift or
Maybe you left it here on accident
My eyes make the colors brighter than they are
The cliché star design is more distressed when I wear it
I wish you would come to my house and take it back.
I want you to tell me how you really feel
I want you
To give me your other shirts
My body does not look like yours
It doesn't look like me either
A vessel I've destroyed by neglect
Or lack there of
I don't like it
They say I should
They also say I should want to change it
How does one like something that they should want to change?