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By Ali Date: 2008 Sep 10 Comment on this Work [[2008.09.10.09.27.12353]] |
| I constantly come here to find you, even though I know you won't be here. How's that for irony? Or...stupidity. It is what it is, even if I can't pin a name on it, or parse it out in pretty words. I can pick apart sentences and theories, just not the ones you utter. Even if I feel every syllable on my skin, I can't trace its destiny. All I do is shiver. All I do is miss you. I think I've spent half of my life missing you. Sometimes, I don't even know I'm doing it. And then I'll catch myself thinking something...something not fit to print. I'll be in a whirlwind moment, with my breath half-expelled and my eyes half-closed, examining the different ways that I want you, the different things I might wear (and let you strip off--but only if you're good. Or...not.) Oh, god, it's dangerous. It's so very dangerous. And I'm not sure that you fully understand that. I'm not sure that anyone does or could; I'm just as much a wreck and a wrecker. And I can, very swiftly, bring you (willingly) down to your knees. And I can guarantee that you'd enjoy it. Do you know that I think of you just before I go to sleep? And those dreams...my god, I can't even account for those. Let's just say that sleep will never be the same, and I'm not very fond of waking up. So, for record? While I have you...or don't: I miss you. I want you. What are you going to do about it? |