A dark space I've never occupied before.
I don't even think you meant to or planned for it to happen.
But my skin was near yours and something about the energy between us made you want to let me in further.
And it wasn't overwhelming.
I felt calm.
And quiet.
(Me? Fucking quiet??)
Silent.
I whispered your name so softly I'm not sure you even heard it.
And I feel greedy for wanting more.
Wanting to see the rest of the dark caverns buried beneath your smile.
But it is maddening to be let in so far and then violently shut out.
Again.
I am too familiar with this dance.
It shouldn't be so comfortable but it is.
It's not even surprising.
Is it possible to find comfort in chaos?
To feel uncertainty is our natural state?
When all was bliss, when you kept making plans to see me again when I was still in your bed, it felt unreal.
Like I was in a trance.
High.
And I kept nodding and letting you lead me by the hand to wherever you wanted us to go but a part of me was always outside watching what was happening.
Because I never fully believed it was real.
Because how could it be when it was everything I had ever wanted?
How could I be finally drowning in such bliss when I was painfully denied for so long?
I am impatient.
I want answers and whole truths.
I want to hold all that is mine, not loosely, as perhaps I should, but tightly, my nails digging in to its flesh.
If every other lover inevitably loses your interest when the physical becomes mundane.
Then let us exist purely physically until your hands become bored holding me, until your mouth no longer drifts into mine, until your eyes no longer delight in every arc of my curves.
I think deep down, in those recesses you don't want me to see, the part of you keeping quiet knows
understands
You could never be sexually dissatisfied with me.
And that
THAT
fucking makes no sense
pushes the familiar right outside your comfort zone
Your own formula for failed romance
That's not what love is?
Is't?
No, that's passion, it's something else entirely
mere fantasy
not practical reality
No, love must be rational and sensible
And be some tender caring difference that isn't what exists between us
Is that what you keep telling yourself?
I'm so different
And crazy
And chaotic
And it's just too much drama and madness and insanity
And it's just carnal, it's strongly sexual, so that must be all this is
And that must be bad
Right?
Is this the way the song plays in your head?
It's just too damn complicated
It shouldn't be
Things that are right are easy
Because you're so fucking simple
And generic
You're just like everyone else
And your relationships should be like everyone else's
Shouldn't be
Should
Except it isn't
Actually
At all,
Complicated
It's euphoric and intoxicating and addicting
-Like every thing that you love-
And I don't believe for a second you don't actually know
of course you fucking know
How you feel what you feel what you will always fucking feel
four hundred twenty days and counting
Lurking underneath your feigned confusion
The truth
ours
Apart from her
or any/one
You claim words are dead
But you're reading this
And my words exist in your head
I'm there
I fucking live
in there
Inside you
I thrive in the memories you delight in
Revel
Fancy
My Fancy Face
Don't you remember?
And my hair is changed
And the perfect contours washed off my skin
And still you peer into my face like our souls are one
And try to have me believe I'm too much
That I could want more than you have to give
When all of this
From that first long luscious kiss at that bar
Was You.
Started
Continued
Tossed and picked back up
Reached for and talked whiling away the night
Held again
And tasted
Was all you.
Ignoring something powerful enough to halt a course you tried again to mistakenly take
Is too foolish
Even for you
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