Today I went to the gym wearing your sports bra. It was the one you gave me after you got breast implants, causing it to be too small for you. It's pink and the perfect size for my natural breasts. It's pink and so different than anything I would buy for myself, yet it fits so perfectly that it is my favorite.
So, I ran, feeling my breath fill my lungs, your sports bra holding my chest tightly.... in and out; in and out; in and out.... like the time we made out after too many vodka redbulls... grasping each other in panicked desperation for something to hold onto.
Do you remember that night at Girl Bar? We went there because I wanted to be around women and you knew the bartender. I think you had made out with her too, but probably because Jimmy Joe was involved.... as that was your name for the singer for that band who had a vineyard and doesn't drink but instead has orgies with tons of young and sometimes underage girls at his secluded home in Arizona or New Mexico.
We stood at the bar and there was a woman who knew you and was obsessed with you. She hit on you in a semi-creepy way, as I let my eyes wander around, searching for some butch to make my dreams come true. That girl who hit on you reminded me of my news reporter ex stalker, and I looked around some more, dissatisfied with the eye candy, but happy just to be with you... laughing and creating memories.
We danced and some gay boy stopped us to tell us that we were the sexiest women there and that we were the best dancers. You told me about how you had been a lesbian in High school and we went across the street to have another drink, just seeing the seen and being seen in WeHo.
When we got back to your place, you were disappointed. You wondered why no one had hit on you. I felt like I was in some kind of twilight zone, because all I remembered was people hitting on you. We laid on your living room floor, for what reason, I cannot remember... and for some reason I needed to kiss you. I needed to know what your lips would feel like on mine, and I needed you to feel the love I had for you....
It wasn't a romantic love or a sexual love... instead, it was more of a Cat on a Hot Tin Roof kind of love. Like when Jade and Carrie had an affair in an attempt to be with me. Or when he and I dated to be with her. You and I made out so that we could love you...
And like so many before and after, I did, but you never caught up. Instead, you just wondered why no one loved you... Instead, you hated you, trying ocassionally to fix you via implants, excessive working out, more photos, random starvation diets, and any man who would look your way...
and no matter how much I could love you, it wasn't enough...
So, I am left now with this pink sports bra... grasping onto my chest, my lungs, my breath, my grief...
in and out; in and out; in and out...
missing you...
So, I ran, feeling my breath fill my lungs, your sports bra holding my chest tightly.... in and out; in and out; in and out.... like the time we made out after too many vodka redbulls... grasping each other in panicked desperation for something to hold onto.
Do you remember that night at Girl Bar? We went there because I wanted to be around women and you knew the bartender. I think you had made out with her too, but probably because Jimmy Joe was involved.... as that was your name for the singer for that band who had a vineyard and doesn't drink but instead has orgies with tons of young and sometimes underage girls at his secluded home in Arizona or New Mexico.
We stood at the bar and there was a woman who knew you and was obsessed with you. She hit on you in a semi-creepy way, as I let my eyes wander around, searching for some butch to make my dreams come true. That girl who hit on you reminded me of my news reporter ex stalker, and I looked around some more, dissatisfied with the eye candy, but happy just to be with you... laughing and creating memories.
We danced and some gay boy stopped us to tell us that we were the sexiest women there and that we were the best dancers. You told me about how you had been a lesbian in High school and we went across the street to have another drink, just seeing the seen and being seen in WeHo.
When we got back to your place, you were disappointed. You wondered why no one had hit on you. I felt like I was in some kind of twilight zone, because all I remembered was people hitting on you. We laid on your living room floor, for what reason, I cannot remember... and for some reason I needed to kiss you. I needed to know what your lips would feel like on mine, and I needed you to feel the love I had for you....
It wasn't a romantic love or a sexual love... instead, it was more of a Cat on a Hot Tin Roof kind of love. Like when Jade and Carrie had an affair in an attempt to be with me. Or when he and I dated to be with her. You and I made out so that we could love you...
And like so many before and after, I did, but you never caught up. Instead, you just wondered why no one loved you... Instead, you hated you, trying ocassionally to fix you via implants, excessive working out, more photos, random starvation diets, and any man who would look your way...
and no matter how much I could love you, it wasn't enough...
So, I am left now with this pink sports bra... grasping onto my chest, my lungs, my breath, my grief...
in and out; in and out; in and out...
missing you...
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