You’re hurting again and yes, now I’m writing again because of you. And so I guess you could pretty much say the whole joke’s on me. It is. It’s always been on me. On my weakness to your minty, picture perfect breath. On the way I like to draw your attention to every single detail I’ve ever noticed.The way I adore to watch you hum while driving. I’m like a bird watcher. And you’re this one particular bird I can’t get over chasing.
Do you want to know a secret? There’s never been too much to tell. I like the feel of your hand on my knee and you know it too well.
It’s so terribly sad, the way there’s nothing to support these feelings we sometimes have towards each other. And yet, it’s so terribly uplifting, when I find you smiling next to me, laughing about something clever I just said. Something clever I just said to please you.
You’re hurting again.
I’m splitting in three.
There’s you and it feels so wonderful, so terribly comforting. It’s delicious, it’s just ok. I still feel nervous around you, you can tell. You’re so terribly tall and I want to climb all the way to your eyes and I want to climb into the mountains with you and listen to this damp soundtrack you hum by your side.
Then there’s him. We met a while back and we got really close to something. To each other, probably. While a third one liked to take pictures while we were in his car, he just liked to make me shiver in the back. He took everything off, the good, the bad, my tee shirt. And I could let go with him, he said he liked my bones, my veins, my eyes in that particular light (none) while we were alone in his house.
And boy number three, I could have really fallen from, but I can hardly ever handle him, to be honest.
The exquisite pain of wanting someone that you know you can never have, and knowing that you will still try to be with them. Known to have drug like effects.
La Douleur Exquise.
