[note: wreckless.org has not been updated in years, i'm working on it though! for new writings, please visit my livejournal.]
she misses him at night the most. she'll lie there, unable to sleep (nothing new), staring at popcorn ceilings --only he's not there beside her. and this slight difference makes it worse, somehow. it's like this huge part or her is missing, like a limb that you can't walk without - or eyes you can't see without. a heart you can't fall in love with if it's not there.
so she'll curl up on the couch and stare at the lights gleaming 2:30a and think about the love of her life and realize these beautiful things about him. the way he laughs at her sarchasm, the naturally gorgeous way he looks when he gets out of the shower...the scent of his neck when she creeps up behind him and wraps her loving arms around him. the feel of his skin.
she falls asleep dreaming of his perfectly shaped fingers and the feeling of his hair between her own fingers, and the way she felt on their first date that told her she would always love him. her instant familiarity with him, some would say, is merely de ja vue, but she know's it's how you feel when you could love someone so much, forever.
i'm sure she doesn't know it
but she's smiling in her sleep when she thinks of him.
don't you know
it's a sin
to get what you want
without fighting for it
or caving in
to give what you never had
never owned
never earned
is like
money that's stolen
ignited
and burned
lunch and two. dinner at 10.
he isn't boyfriend material, she said.
she's been thinkin he might live through her ups and follow-me-downs
while under her spell he's waking up to
her gettin up, and follow-me-arounds
and she's getting used to wakin up to him
in his delirious state
love is creeping in-
she feels like it's more than just sleeping
he's husband material
but i tell her it's fate.
careeer day for example
yep
you were giving your presentation on "professional musician"
sharing some of my promps *my big pink paperboard of scales haha*
i remember every detail of that moment
i was on the right side of the classroom (if you are facing it from the hall)
and you sat sort of in the middle.
you put up your props before your speech, which was (i think just after mine)
your hair was your natural blond, cut short to just about your chin length
light-faded blue jeans that fit snugly
and a purple short-sleeved knitted sweater-shirt
and you were reaching high up to put your props on the blackboard,
and your sweater/shirt rode up just enough to expose a patch of your stomach.
it was without a doubt, the sexiest thing i'd ever seen in my life at that point.
brooke/melissa/lacy/ and their slut-mobile outfits be-gone. they were nothing.
i didnt even really know you then.
just your name and the memory of you freezing in your cheerleader outfit
in keyboard class the previous year. that was it.
you wait in silent desperation
contemplate your unfortunate insignificance
in the scheme of his life
as if you never meant to him
want he meant to you
you remember the old because the new is hardly sprouting
so it's like you're hoping,
despite all certainty,
for a little reimbursement of such
negative space plus positive input equals desired outcome
but looking at the results,
nothing collided-
no bonding occured
no sign of physical or chemical change
that look,
the searching of my eyes through his
and seeing blank, just blank, just blank
your heart sank, love.
re-checking the equation,
you multiply your
one
times his
zero
and get nothing
he will never want you for longer
than just
in the now
when we're facing eachother
i see a road beyond the glass in your pupils
i reach within the bounds of your retinas
and feel for the map
of conquest.
i waited until you fell asleep
and right as you closed your eyes
i saw something that kept me awake
for two hours
it was my journey
mapped out as little dashes
on burned, ripped, crumpled brown paper
i followed it along until i reached my abode
hoping it was our home
but i was left to dwell
at the end of your
darling, dead-end road.