god I felt like an idiot
sitting looking at the different strands of carpet
her hair brushed back behind her ear
when she waited
to hear me ask
“did we even have anything in common?”
she shrugged

“your curiousity”

I laughed, rolling my eyes.

“and your need to be loved”

and god I felt like an idiot

I swear the whiskey tastes better
between little tears
the strum of a acoustic guitar
and those little ‘what happened’ moments

wished we talked more about wanting to be kissed

And how it is so very different when comparing to  wanting someone to kiss you.

“sorry hockey is life”

and i laughed, letting the dots display themselves like I hadn’t already made up my mind now. “Gotta do what you gotta do” I said.

Staring up into the final swipes of mascara. Wondering who would it benefit if I just took it off and put on the hoodie instead now? but I gotta do, what I gotta do. Just like him, apparently.

And I bought the beer. Mostly cause I pinky promised, remind me never to do that again.

And I sat there playing crib, enjoying the conversation, more the beer than anything. Laughing to myself as I caught the flicks from eyes to screen to Phillies to screen.

cause, you know…

“Hockey is life”.

so I sat pretty, sipping my beer. Thinking about all the amazing things life has to offer. Other than hockey.

it’s funny how some of the most cathartic moments can be the most mundane.

like hungover snuggles with the dog

Panicking about what this year will look like, did I even like as he laughed into my neck

and she just cuddled in closer
spreading kisses where she could reach, and reminders to breath a little slower

until I felt a little softer.

and realized it’s now a new year, with new mistakes, new memories, and new feelings

but the same little best friend, willing to snore tucked up beside me

so I’m never quite alone

I guess

I’ve made myself into the woman
I thought I would never have to be

maybe I’m a hypocrite
and that’s something I’ll have to work on.

but why in the hell did you hear me say ‘this is my favourite thing’

and you preceded to give me an itemized list of the reasons you didn’t think it was good enough

and couldn’t tell you were breaking pieces of me, as you continued on through the pages and pages

I wanted to show you a piece of me

it wasn’t for you to judge and find wanting.

but that review wasn’t really for me anyways