I don’t talk about it much but not even for a day have you left me. I don’t talk about it much but in my dreams you never left me. I feel you at the edge of every smile, or at the start of every laugh. I feel you in every sigh and at the top of every climax. With every release your image guides me through. I know its wrong to say but I fucking love you.
I miss you.
I love you.
They love me.
They tell me.
I love you.
I can’t fucking write when it is not for you. I don’t want to.
Airports really do have my heart. Especially those moments sitting at your gate. Stomach full. Sipping a comforting drink while listening to soft music. I love these strangely human moments. We’ve constructed such elaborate machinations for survival that often feel so extra. But not this. This window of waiting at gates is soberingly lovely.
A kiss. A bit much, I know. But still. A kiss. A bit of a risk, I know. But still. A kiss. A bit of the lips I know. I keep you close. You’re right by my heart. You always will be. I slip and I fall. I trip and I stall. I miss you so much. I heard your voice in my dream and it woke me up. I haven’t heard you for so long that your sound jarred me awake. I orbit the thought of you. We have our seasons too. We’re cold and distant and then hot and dangerous. Its a hot flash now and I’m burning for you. What season are you on? I hope its hot for you too. We can both be in heat for each other. And when its time to simmer down, we’ll rotate slower. But never will it be still. Never will we be un-thrilled. Come. I haven’t felt your hot for 3 seasons. Its unfair how cold we’ve been.
I’ve been finding it increasingly hard to connect to new people. I’m not sure what its, or what has changed. But it never used to be like this. I could genuinely befriend people and create real bonds fairly simply when I was younger. Is it because I’m older? Is it because I’m extremely happy and grateful for my current friends and don’t feel the need for new people? Is it because I’m actually trying to achieve goals for the first time in my life and I’m preoccupied? I really don’t know. And its not like I’m necessarily down about it, but I noticed it. Even with people I actually think are really cool and dope, I just don’t feel it. I don’t feel like connecting. I don’t feel like reaching out. Even if they’re reaching out to me. I was never like that. Friendship means the world to me. Maybe its just a phase? Maybe once I free up a bit more and I’m not juggling so many things I’ll slide back into that social and amicable Me. Its even worse with girls… but thats a conversation for another year or 2.
There is an enormity inside of me. An enormity of feelings that do not belong on the inside. An enormity that consists of vulnerability, love and shaded truths. It feels like a swarm of worms slithering around my abdomen. Its not heavy but its definietly alive. I used to be able to expel some of that vulnerability. I used to be able to share the enormity. It was usually a pretty face, with pretty curls, under pretty sheets through quiet whispers and desperate moans. But lately thats lost its appeal. I never really learned a healthy way to deal with this. I never bothered finding more ways to release myself of these things that line my insides and churn endlessly all night. I never had the foresight to prepare for my growing disinterest in things I thought would always make me feel alive. How do you prepare for a shift on that level? How long would it take you to adjust to walking on your hands after years of walking on your feet. I can’t backtrack and look for comfort the way I used to. But I also have no idea how to move forward. Its all false confidence and bravado in the name of not being vulnerable. But in all honesty, my worlds getting colder, and it has nothing to do with the weather.