there's something about the idea of sitting down with him and a glass of red wine that he cherishes so much that really appeals to you, something about listening to call it fate call it karma and joking about the irrelevancy of individual objects in this mass world that makes you want to message him immediately

the truth is, you need him because you need someone to save you when you have realised at about 3 am on your way to see him this morning that you are no longer a person to rely on to be there for you emotionally - you're your own bad influence, you're your own a.m. thoughts and bad decisions

the truth is, you wish you were still drunk enough to tell him that he should date you instead; you wish you were drunk enough to kiss him, drunk enough to play with his tie when he kept fidgeting with it, drunk enough to tell him that he's full of **** and you love it

you wish you were sober enough to forget about everything that has happened and get off that feeling knowing somebody told you that you'd be in their head, because your situations have never been perfect and this hurricane is making its way towards your heart faster than you anticipated and this time you don't want to drown in the raindrops of lost desire and empty words

there's something there, something about the two silver rings, one on each hand; something about the way his hair slicks back, about how he wears his glasses and how excited he gets to show you what he can play on piano; there's something there about the touch, about the electrifying feeling of holding his tired hands, and about the way you can tease him and he still takes it, about the way he assumes things but you do too and then you both admit your faults, about the way he tells you to smile more because a smile suits you and that thinking too much can be a serial killer

there's something there, but it's too far away to be understood - too far away to be felt, too far away to be loved

your drunken mind assumes it's utopia, but your sober mind concludes it's hell