My new lover just left and I started thinking of you... would I ever feel your arms around me again, as I once did? And then I just went about my business as if your face hadn't just flashed in my mind... as if I hadn't just thought about your hands on my cheeks or your lips on mine. I washed the glasses of their gin and ginger, and put them on the rack to dry. I picked up the various pieces of clothing strewn throughout the apartment-- a path of awkward moments laced with chemistry... I turned off the Pandora and turned on the "sad" playlist.... and finally sat down to the chaotic comfort of my mind.
It's strange that I think of you in these times, fulfilled and ready for sleep; empty and knowing I will not. What sparks these memories of you in this space and in others, haunting me still after all this time? especially because you have never been in this space... not really in any space I have occupied. I'm pretty sure I occupied your space in so many ways for short periods filled with this and that.... but that is long over, leaving me here: writing.
Maybe that's why you lurk right after I have had that kind of sex... I always think back to the awkwardness of our first kiss and our first make-out session. It really was quite awkward, although we quickly rewrote that narrative to fit lust or love or something else. And then we had short or long periods of this and that for some undetermined amount of time before it was over with a swift, way-too-short phone call.
So you pop into my mind after my lovers leave... taking with them their strange smells and unfamiliar touches.... I'm so bad at convincing them, and yet we proceed through the this and that all the same. We send flirty texts and sometimes even speak of the future, as if it exists in this space... as if this and that is not simply and only awkward moments laced with chemistry....
It's strange that I think of you in these times, fulfilled and ready for sleep; empty and knowing I will not. What sparks these memories of you in this space and in others, haunting me still after all this time? especially because you have never been in this space... not really in any space I have occupied. I'm pretty sure I occupied your space in so many ways for short periods filled with this and that.... but that is long over, leaving me here: writing.
Maybe that's why you lurk right after I have had that kind of sex... I always think back to the awkwardness of our first kiss and our first make-out session. It really was quite awkward, although we quickly rewrote that narrative to fit lust or love or something else. And then we had short or long periods of this and that for some undetermined amount of time before it was over with a swift, way-too-short phone call.
So you pop into my mind after my lovers leave... taking with them their strange smells and unfamiliar touches.... I'm so bad at convincing them, and yet we proceed through the this and that all the same. We send flirty texts and sometimes even speak of the future, as if it exists in this space... as if this and that is not simply and only awkward moments laced with chemistry....
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