my life / my lips / my decisions / my indiscretions.
i turned my head to her and asked, "why do they all come back?" i can't answer that today, and probably not tomorrow, but my arms will open wider and wider every time they reappear, and he is a repeat offender. (don't let him be.) --i am just looking for something to love me the way he does-- there is comfort in his deviant obsession with me. he is not beautiful, and he don't mean a thing to me.
-----
the one who i'm always running from comes back periodically, but we like to leave too much to stay. me and him: four years of closing doors quietly behind us / four years of quitting and beginning again / four years of silence / four years of sparks / four years of three hour drives - reduced to one. this close, four years apart, i refuse to go to him. if he can find me before i fly away, i'll wait. i am a baby bird.
in his parent's house (whichever one.) in the front seat of his car (whichever one.) in the crowd of that venue (whichever one.) where he whispered, "did you miss me?" and i replied, "i know what you did." that was years ago, and i have forgiven him for his youthful folly, and i am sorry for mine.
every time he climbs in bed with me, we realize it is too hard to fall asleep alone from so far away and i leave him (as he leaves me) to settle for something a little closer.
i know why he stays with her
i know how comfortable she is
i know he doesn't love her anymore
i know she still loves him
i know he lets her
i know why he lets her.
he likes to play a game called you-can't-figure-me-out-and-i-got-secrets. i always let him win, but i will read him, highlight my favorite parts, re-read him, and true to my nature, give him to himself--the best gift he'll ever receive.
i turned my head to her and asked, "why do they all come back?" i can't answer that today, and probably not tomorrow, but my arms will open wider and wider every time they reappear, and he is a repeat offender. (don't let him be.) --i am just looking for something to love me the way he does-- there is comfort in his deviant obsession with me. he is not beautiful, and he don't mean a thing to me.
-----
the one who i'm always running from comes back periodically, but we like to leave too much to stay. me and him: four years of closing doors quietly behind us / four years of quitting and beginning again / four years of silence / four years of sparks / four years of three hour drives - reduced to one. this close, four years apart, i refuse to go to him. if he can find me before i fly away, i'll wait. i am a baby bird.
in his parent's house (whichever one.) in the front seat of his car (whichever one.) in the crowd of that venue (whichever one.) where he whispered, "did you miss me?" and i replied, "i know what you did." that was years ago, and i have forgiven him for his youthful folly, and i am sorry for mine.
every time he climbs in bed with me, we realize it is too hard to fall asleep alone from so far away and i leave him (as he leaves me) to settle for something a little closer.
i know why he stays with her
i know how comfortable she is
i know he doesn't love her anymore
i know she still loves him
i know he lets her
i know why he lets her.
he likes to play a game called you-can't-figure-me-out-and-i-got-secrets. i always let him win, but i will read him, highlight my favorite parts, re-read him, and true to my nature, give him to himself--the best gift he'll ever receive.
No comments:
Post a Comment