Author: Jess

ours is a history of long car rides and stopped car rides, water beds and cuddling turned into heated debates ? your skin v. my skin. i don’t ever remember who wins, only that i meant to say no. and i was so sure you meant nothing to me, of course that was yesterday. you weren’t here then. you never call. you wouldn’t love me. you say you do love me, and later you assure me that you really mean it. we’re both so afraid to fall again we cling to each other. only to fall together, but it hurts less that way. until we hit the bottom. maybe there is no bottom, maybe i never jumped and neither did you. but i think that the first time your fingertips found the back of my hand i just fell and i didn’t even know.

you are there in a tie-dyed shirt that has a fish on it and i’m wondering if its some sort of religious sacrament, you, proclaiming everything that is to be proclaimed about jesus (or any other modern-day superstar from long ago) and wearing leather chaps over your jeans–maybe you biked here. you wouldn’t be caught biking anywhere.. you’re song is one of sadness before the seventies are so long gone that the world hurts to look at now and for one blissful second i want to be just like you. take me there, whispers. then i see the-car-of-my-dreams and any mystic element that you once held in my head is now gone. if i looked back (which i did not) you would be gone too.

i’m wanting you to curl up in my arms and let me tell you everything, i need to just cry again so let me cry. goddamit. just stop. and maybe if i were there with you i would get to cry for hours in your arms maybe you would start to cry to and our tears would mix together then we would.

you and i are nothing anymore, that’s what i’ve figured out from talking you through an abscense of uppers just a night ago. we’re nothing, we’re no one. you: i’m not even sure that we should talk anymore. and i won’t have that so i come to see you and there we are on your bed sprawled out touching every inch of it except for one inch of space that seperates you from me. and this is more air between us than there has been in weeks: when you first met me you were touching me. your hand slides over to my arm and you touch the fleshy part on the top part of my arm where some store muscle. i break down. don’t cry. don’t cry. this is the only time in a month and a half that i’ve felt okay. just don’t cry. but its been so long since i’ve felt you and even longer since i’ve cried and so i cry. me: i love you. i’ve just been so lost without you and you: but i’ve found you again?

i don’t know what i can do to make this up to you. scarlet on my hands. staining porcelain skin. i don’t know what i can do to make this up to you. scarlet, did you forget my name? do you love me just the same? what can i do? one day we’ll find a better way to work through all of this. i’m sorry for what i’ve done to you. i just want to be with you. i don’t know what i can do to make this up to you. scarlet, pouring from my skin its you i’m missing.

the water is trapped inside your matress but we feel it together and from hours of loneliness its so cold, &weclingtoeachother. your hands find my hips and then my back while i face away from you and close out all of the pain from my destroying of my life. tell me i’m pretty, tell me i’m beautiful. and i want to ask you if i am, if you think i look alright because i just got the pictures back and i don’t think i look alright. you’re so pretty you say. and i didn’t even ask you. suddenly, it doesn’t matter that you don’t call unless you want somethingme. it only matters that you care enough to tell me i’m beautiful. this may be the saddest i’ve ever felt.

you used to hit me when we were in the backseat, hard on the arm, but i never bruised. no take backs! and a grin from you and i was lost in your eyes and your smile, but i’d never tell you because you were a girl and that was weird and now i tell them for the first time over 6 years later and i still can’t look you in the eyes without getting those little butterflies and you still don’t know. it wouldn’t surprise me if she was, they say. i don’t mention that i’ve heard stories from mutual friends that weren’t supposed to say anything to anyone. but no one is listening to me: do you remember when we used to pretend to kiss? i think i’ve kissed you for pretend more than i’ve kissed anyone else.

the fire keeps going up and they started so early so as the sky gets darker it seems like the fireworks are getting brighter, they’re not. but we are. wandering around and fitting in telling jokes and just being each other without alcohol, drugs, or stereotypes. we’re just each other. we’re couples and loners. we’re friends and acquaitances. we’re invited or not invited. we’re from kansas or we’re saying we’re from fargot. and we are everything. its in this moment right here that i feel like i’m the future. its right there that i feel like everything really will be alright. and if she were here, i’d tell her i love you.

you drop my hand when we walk close to people and i understand because i was the same way and maybe i still am so it doesn’t hurt even a little. but inside somewhere i think, why can’t sixteen and seventeen year olds hold hands the way little girls do? but then, we were never little girls. were we?

you’re the only thing i feel like roping, as i suggest that we go back to the trails. think back to the times when we were alone together. we both lead the way back to where we were and we’re alone again. hallelujah. we cut the wrestling matches this time, and we get right down to the wrestling matches. your hands guide me to the ground and then pull me on top of you and we pay no attention to dirt. when its over we’re sweaty, dirty, and bitten. see, waking up early can be worth it.. you: yeah. me: really?. and you say yes even though you’d been saying no all day.