Sunday, April 28, 2013

trash

The light looked pretty on your skin and that's why I kissed you. Looking back it wasn't the most terrible decision I've made, but I doubt it would make it into the top ten best, either. It was three o'clock in the afternoon and your skin was sticky with my sweat, I'm sorry about that by the way, and the way your face angled into mine formed a cave so perfect, millions of years of slow and gentle erosion of a mountain side couldn't imitate it. Here pooled our warm breath. From this pool I drank, as if dying of thirst, or rather suffocating since I was drinking through breathing your air, and not water. Do you understand?

You kept me alive that afternoon, which was nice of you. I had a pleasant time there, tangled in your limbs and with knots of affection blossoming like tumors in my stomach. I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to go elsewhere, whether or not I've gathered up my things into my arms or bag, just sometimes want to leave but  that afternoon I didn't. I was content with being still  for the first time in a long time, the first time in a while where I didn't want to walk away and into traffic. But I still do, now. I'm sorry, I still think these things, here in my dorm room where it smells like incense and loneliness. You didn't fix me, you just calmed me for 5 lovely hours. Perhaps that was what you were meant to do, here with me, not to sound narcissistic or self-involved even though I kind of am even though I am too crap a person to have that be justified, but maybe just maybe you were destined to hold my hand and lean into me and over the back of my chair so I could rest the top of my head against your stomach. Maybe it was your job, assigned by some Other or Greater or Imaginary thing, to keep me still for a while. I've had a terrible week and if there was a bathtub in my dorm, then I would have filled it with tears three times over in the past seven days. Thank you for helping me forget that, how very kind of you. I think I am rambling but I can't help myself, it's only been 16 hours since I've kissed you, how can you expect me to have collected my jelloid pieces up already?

But every time I pulled away and placed a few terrible inches between your lips and mine, I asked 'what?' and here is what I wanted: I wanted you to smile and tell me things, stories, jokes or funny words. I wanted you to say something about politics or a song you like. I wanted you to talk about your passions and who you are, because I want to know these things about you. I wanted you to explain why, even though this hadn't happened yet mind you, when your friends dropped me off where I could get a cab and you'd already left because urgent matters called your attention away from me, why did they seem reluctant to leave me in a place unknown why did they say I needed to be kept safe because I was your dot dot dot, fill in the blank. I wanted to have a word, a weapon, a solution, a shield to fill in that goddamn blank and only you could have given it to me. I wanted you to tell me that the light looked pretty on my skin as well, even though it probably did not. But you didn't do any of these things and what tumbled out of your mouth was the word 'nothing' over and over again and now that's exactly what I feel, nothing at all.

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