Press up

It's so apparent your dick is gigantic. The manner with which you carry yourself, the way you smell and get close; your pheromones give your cock away. Press up close to me again and see what happens. Listen to how stupid I sound when forced to give you an answer. All I can think about it how my body is absorbing all of you at once and it's making the clocks spin out, the needle quiver, a missed breath and then a sigh. Your body is ridiculous. You look like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever but better because you aren't a Scientologist. You're full of interesting artistic expression but you look like a macho guido who got lost on the way to the gym and ended up in the press room. God your eyes made me die today. Just buckling baby doe grasping the California Job Case trying to lay out my words with all the appropriate spacing. I can tell it's there; your sex and a hundred other messages passed between us. Oh let me dream of our wedding by the shores of Palermo drinking wine and eating mussels and making love on an open rooftop room while the moon looks on. Your eyes look like melting chocolate. I will mind my p's and q's if you will mind my c's, l's, i's and t's.

For Jonathan

I took a snapshot of your face

So I could dwell and swell 

In your grace.

I looked on over 

Through your eyes 

Saw myself

And moonlit skies.

I wanted you to kiss me

Right there and then

Wanted you to take my hand 

And put it where your hurt had been. 

A token, an emblem 

Of our sweet past

I wished for your heart

And here you are at last. 

Hey there

How come you had to go and make me think about you? I wish I had been paying attention so as to see you reaching for me at 2am. I want you. I want you messaging me late at night. Come see me and If you are wide awake at 2am it will be because your hand is slipped down my panties and my tongue is probing yours. The heat of your body could keep my hearth warm all winter long. 

Cut away

A memory like that of an elephant hurts when your only aim is to forget. I try to focus and be present and fail miserably sometimes. Starting something new that could mean something more means something to me. I quoted a pop star and I shouldn't be surprised if it didn't entirely win you over. Even I have to laugh at my arrogance, thinking you could even be won. I take clonazapam and drink those mini bottles of Bombay Sapphire that she brought for the trip. Being around girls in that close capacity does something to you. It's almost a gift that we could all stand eachother after. I wish I was standing on the bridge and smoking the fattest spliff with them right now. Idaho is a good place to hide. The foothills and rolling valleys and plains give purpose to the idiocy that life is sometimes. I thought about him the whole time, thought about his hands swallowing up my body. 

What is this?

It's almost harder now, getting my piece and peace out and you being ok with it...I mean, I didn't even want to READ your response I was so terrified. I deleted my app just so I could pretend it wasn't even there, so far flung and off in outer space and I was just above it all. I did read it though after so much over analyzing I had it down to a molecular level...but I was honestly surprised; happily surprised. I couldn't let you sleep another night without knowing; whether you think about me or not I couldn't let that happen. Bobbi pins prick me awake and I rip them out and fall back in. It's not difficult, being older gives me courage I never knew I had but I definitely get nervous around you. Regardless, I'm having growing pains in my legs right now, the kind one gets when they are a kid. I almost think i should take a hot bath but the gin would make me pass out probably. 

Write me

I can't stop listening to the new Tame Impala album and I can't stop thinking about you. This is the most absolutely infuriating thing because it's now been over a week and I'm wasting valuable pining time on you when it could be better spent obsessing over someone else. I don't know what you want and we really don't have the heart of the matter in common. You are skeptical in a dangerous way whereas I feel I am taking other things into account. I want to do this right but there is no such thing. Would you ever come here? I feel like you wouldn't just because of me. If you did it would be ok I think, you'd get a place that was maybe nicer than mine (maybe) and work and I would see you once a week to make you dinner or go out for a drink. I would introduce you to my friends and you would either love them and get it or you wouldn't and that would be that; you seem good in just about any situation. Fantasizing about even this is exactly what I'm trying not to do! All of it is a waste of cells and you are probably at your home, playing with your dog or playing piano or studying or thinking about your ex or drinking the rest of my wine or masturbating or crying in the shower or sitting in your car listening to Coldplay or playing video games or sleeping because it's 11:30 where you are and you work tomorrow. Gosh what I would give to know...not much but I would give at least something. My mind just wraps itself up in you in this unhealthy way. It's all regret's fault and I regret that I feel this way too. I've been in too many one sided conversations and I should know better...but I don't. I wish I was listening to Coldplay with you in your car and that is saying a lot because I think Coldplay is an irrelevant and boring band. Show me a different point of view, show me your pain and I will show it back to you through my eyes. 

Oma said some mean things about you and I got so mad it surprised me. I just wanted you to know I defended you, for no reason I instinctively felt I needed to keep you safe from her. I don't know what to do about you, where to store you in my psyche. Reorganize my books, pasting pictures, baking---whatever, it will all be for you and every time I think about it or look at it I will think of you and that is so unfair to me. You can't be the summertime in my winter mind, clearly you never wanted that. I can speculate on you but I'll never really know; it isn't as if we know eachother well enough for you to even tell me just to tell me. I see us on that sofa and I am screaming at myself to touch you. Take your hand, touch your face or just say "I want you to, too."

Ratatat tat

I just can't get you out of my space. There's a bodega covered in colored Christmas lights with a green velvet sofa and polished gold accents atop an old Persian rug. I'm in a ruffly, tiered skirt and cap sleeved top. My hair is curled and soft but sitting high and falling a little bit on the side. I have my nails painted the same gold present in the room. My makeup is dark and smudged because it's 2am and we have been out all night. I was wearing kitten heels with little bows on the front but kicked them off when I found favor with the squishy, old rug. You are towering above me looking down my top. I grab you by your navy lapels and your jacket makes you look like an out of style sea captain. I press against you and know you want me to and want me, too. Music is coming from upstairs, thumping and celestial. I push you down into sitting on the sofa and hitch my skirt up enough to let you see me before I straddle you. Our faces are so close and I can see your lines in your cheeks and eyes and I want to trace them but I keep my hands pressing on your hips like I'm steadying myself. You lean towards me like you are going to kiss me and the tune upstairs changes and I turn my cheek to slight you. I feel you stiffen below me and I know it's going to happen. The velvet sofa springs press into my knees and your erection presses into my pussy. The lights flicker momentarily and your eyes never waver from mine. You lean again but I'm already there, meeting your mouth and everything else. I feel your hands skate up my back and then drop to my ass and squeeze. Lips and teeth on my neck and fingers tugging my top, desperately sourcing my nipples and a handful of breast. Your mouth tastes so fucking good and your body feels like a masterpiece. Lights flicker again and I'm ready for you, ready as I'll ever be. 

Same stupid story

Same story, same song, same hurt heart and pride.

I can't stop thinking about you in the midst of the others I thing about. My brain is a veritable sausage party and you are the one I want first on my dance card. 

Your thick fingers finding their way around my thighs while your mouth doesn't hesitate and mine is forgetting how to speak. Giggleboxing to stay calm,  wishing I could be yours and not have the pretense that is the thief of time. Pealing cries at 2am wouldn't phase you and I know that I could lean on you and understand the house wouldn't crumble. You have been there and seen those things and came out alive.