Category: Prose

Your kisses are pina coladas at sunrise when we had dinner last night and remained at the table untile nine, letting our voices fill the comfortable silence. And then we crashed — into bed together and fluffy white comforters kept us warm while we cooled down and our dreams stole us from each other only to keep us together with flowers and dancing, dancing dancing. At six, i wake to your hand pulling me closer to you (subconciously) my kiss wakes you and your smile melts the cool breeze. our footsetps and the blender, the refridgerator, and cabinets closing are so quite. The only sound we hear is of two hearts beating and the suns first kissing of your cheek while our hands wait together to find our backs and our brains wait to find dreams, again. When i smile right now it means i love you.

i don’t remember it well, just hours ago even, but i seem to remember us spinning although it was just the pretty colors all around that gave us this illusion you bent me back a little so that my eyes were aligned with yours and then you said i love you. i remembered writing about the first time you said it in order for me to erase that first time and now here you were saying it again, so i scrambled to find the words to take it away but there were no words to take it away until you told me in your own way so i said i loved you back, in your own way too. and i’m pretty sure this was our first fight.

she hands them to you and then you hand them to me i already have these ones i hold them up and smile and you tell me its okay now i just have more. well thank you, they’re beautiful (you tell me that i’m wrong and that i’m beautiful) and you ask me if i know what it means but i don’t. the only thing i know now is i have six roses/half-a-dozen, and the other half is missing but i smile anyway and hope you don’t notice the distance in my eyes.

today i kissed one else, that you don’t know but you do know him and he hates you because you banged me and bummed his cigarettes: i’m not so sure which hes madder about but he doesn’t like anyone that’s liked me or had me and he tells me you hurt me and i just look him in the eyes and say no i hurt her, but it doesn’t matter anymore who hurt who just whos being blamed for all of it and that’s perpetually me, me, me, me, me and you wrote about someone else today and i know it. i kissed someone else today and none of it matters (none of it!) because you wrote about someone else and your words were always a reflection of me i hope you hate me someday soon. these words are heard by no one. or maybe just because its not you they’re heard by no one in particular.

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.