It was a Saturday night somewhere where'bouts
December the 10th of 2012;
okay, fine, I can't recall the exact date, but that's not
the point
of this;
it's so much less bout the whens and whys and so much more
bout the whats, the what the **** it was.
And it was so good.
It was just a December night
in my windowless bedroom,
and I know it was a Saturday
for sure
because Daddy was picking me
up
at 9 o'clock on the ******* dot
because that Sunday was game day,
and we needed to get to Indy in time
to swallow down some Medium Rare burgers
before kickoff.
Anyway, so yeah,
Saturday night in my cave of a bedroom,
the only light that broke the darkness's
arrogant foreground
was the iridescent glow of the four
lavender and ocean scented candles I had placed
on the shelf by my desk,
seemingly casual enough,
but nothing I ever do is actually casual,
and it never was casual with you,
as much as I may have pretended.
It was all calculated, all culminated, all animated and anticipated,
God **** yeah, I laid out the whole set up
with the candles and the music and the glow,
like a perfectly **** setting.
But it turned out after it all that it wasn't that
sexiness I thought I wanted
that hit me so hard in the gut.
It was us, sitting there on my bed
side-by-side,
bodies close enough that we were almost touching,
like I could feel the body heat from your
perfectly built arms,
but I didn't actually feel the silkiness
that was your caramel skin
against my ivory.
Nope. No touching, for once
it really wasn't about that,
not even in the slightest.
We just sat and gabbed and laughed and
cried and squealed and
joked and concluded and pondered
and on and on
and
on
it went,
our bodies every so often readjusting
their positions on my white comforter with the black
flowers,
and I really just knew you in those moments
and you I
and it was like there was no clock
no time
no morning early rising committed plans
to the outside world,
because that realm ceased to exist as
you laughed in baritone
and told me funny stories about football and your friends
and then tragedies
about a mom that never loved you right
and a dad you never knew except for
the drugs and
his lack of
presence.
And there I went telling
you about when I got kicked off the team
and the one time
I got beat up
and other secrets I never knew I would
tell anyone and somehow
on it went as we were spiraling into
the abyss full of
everything we have ever needed, wanted, desired,
fears no longer fearful
and hurt set loose;
somehow I frantically reached for my phone
realizing that we just
made an entire night of conversating
and falling into something
that could be that word I won't
use because I ain't entirely sure,
but **** my Dad was 20 minutes away,
you couldn't stay,
and I think I just
yeah,
I'll say it,
cuz I really think that night
I fell
in love.
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 5:38 AM UTC
It was a Saturday night somewhere where'bouts
December the 10th of 2012;
okay, fine, I can't recall the exact date, but that's not
the point
of this;
it's so much less bout the whens and whys and so much more
bout the whats, the what the **** it was.
And it was so good.
It was just a December night
in my windowless bedroom,
and I know it was a Saturday
for sure
because Daddy was picking me
up
at 9 o'clock on the ******* dot
because that Sunday was game day,
and we needed to get to Indy in time
to swallow down some Medium Rare burgers
before kickoff.
Anyway, so yeah,
Saturday night in my cave of a bedroom,
the only light that broke the darkness's
arrogant foreground
was the iridescent glow of the four
lavender and ocean scented candles I had placed
on the shelf by my desk,
seemingly casual enough,
but nothing I ever do is actually casual,
and it never was casual with you,
as much as I may have pretended.
It was all calculated, all culminated, all animated and anticipated,
God **** yeah, I laid out the whole set up
with the candles and the music and the glow,
like a perfectly **** setting.
But it turned out after it all that it wasn't that
sexiness I thought I wanted
that hit me so hard in the gut.
It was us, sitting there on my bed
side-by-side,
bodies close enough that we were almost touching,
like I could feel the body heat from your
perfectly built arms,
but I didn't actually feel the silkiness
that was your caramel skin
against my ivory.
Nope. No touching, for once
it really wasn't about that,
not even in the slightest.
We just sat and gabbed and laughed and
cried and squealed and
joked and concluded and pondered
and on and on
and
on
it went,
our bodies every so often readjusting
their positions on my white comforter with the black
flowers,
and I really just knew you in those moments
and you I
and it was like there was no clock
no time
no morning early rising committed plans
to the outside world,
because that realm ceased to exist as
you laughed in baritone
and told me funny stories about football and your friends
and then tragedies
about a mom that never loved you right
and a dad you never knew except for
the drugs and
his lack of
presence.
And there I went telling
you about when I got kicked off the team
and the one time
I got beat up
and other secrets I never knew I would
tell anyone and somehow
on it went as we were spiraling into
the abyss full of
everything we have ever needed, wanted, desired,
fears no longer fearful
and hurt set loose;
somehow I frantically reached for my phone
realizing that we just
made an entire night of conversating
and falling into something
that could be that word I won't
use because I ain't entirely sure,
but **** my Dad was 20 minutes away,
you couldn't stay,
and I think I just
yeah,
I'll say it,
cuz I really think that night
I fell
in love.
