Rendezvous
10 December 07 : 02.32 AM
"These nights I occupy myself with things less than pretty. I find myself drawn to these boys who will never be good for me. Not like the way I was drawn to you and the semi-rogue image you had, but those sleeve tattoos they had were quite titillating. The fact that they're attentive and sweet towards me, definitely helped. I had wanted them to want me, the way never before. So I leaned close. I held them by their neck. I let them put their arms around me like we were old friends. Acted like it didn't matter. Whispered so close I was almost kissing their ears. Funny, they still could tell I was distant.
I wanted to call you and be normal. Ask how your day was, but instead I think up all these ways to get your attention. Then I end up crying, hysterical.
I promised myself I'd do something. I'd do something so drastic or so out of character that I could never regret or look back. Or something so that I could never return to you. But when the time came, I just turned away. How fucking pussy can I get. I tell myself I'll do it, but I never do. Who am I trying to kid? You?
It's such a quiet night. When I left my house, I heard live jazz music down the street coming from the cafe you used to buy desserts for me. I imagine you buying desserts for some other girl, the next one probably, and it just tears me. The next boy will buy desserts for me too. He will make love to me slow, the way you'll do for her. It will all be different.
I would say, come back. Come back to bed, and we'll sleep so close our bodies perspire right under the cold. Come back and slip your hands inside my shirt, cupping my breasts while we sleep. The weight of your arm over me. Your constant breath by my neck. I would say that, but will you listen?"
Something I wrote for him while we were parted. Uncensored, unmitigated. I'm not happy right now.