Monday, October 25, 2010
after our exchanges yesterday, i thought today would be the day i'd get to see you again. i've never felt lovesick before. i convinced myself not to go to your house last night and bang on your door till you kissed me. you need space and i can't trust my instincts anymore. i'm trying to be cool and everything tells me i love you. a consoling friend said to me that this will make good song fodder. i don't want to write songs. i want to wash your back. and for you to wash mine. and to see that pulsing circle again.
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the last time you kissed me, while the parallel lights scraped the sky across the east river, i woke up aching to walk straight to the sidewalk outside your apartment and write everything i know and love about you in thick pastel chalk letters. i should never forgive myself for these failures to abide every maniacal mumble, that slips through my head/heart/wherever the thinking is done or overdone. -s.b.
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