Then again, cause we all move in circles.
If he loves me then why does he leave. If he loves me then why does he leave. Don't say goodbye like you are burying him
cause the world is round and he might return.
Drunk, pretty, unraveling nervousness and under heartfelt suspition I tried to talk to R, my foot shaking, taping. I told him I couldn't keep it still, the other had come to my show, bringing my restlessness. That he was watching me. That hopeless look searching for something else in me, stirring something i forgot existed, him and me. I told him that I was angry at myself, for the continuing whatever this was, that I've changed in a thousand ways this past year, but he's the last part of me to disappear. He said something like when you have electricity with someone it never just fades, especially when neither of them want to it.
Surprisingly he approached us joining our conversation and R taking a silent queue bid me farewell and congrats on my piece. The brown eyed man came closer and perched on the seat and our bubble enveloped both of us. I shouldn't stop shivering. I watched him, too closely, it felt like a million years since we were this close, but still familiar and natural. He talked about our anniversary, the night on the plot in the mist and orange glow of London on that early cold morning that I hoped would have also brought a happy ending for me and him, together. (he had remembered everything, like crystal, like me). He told me how much he'd changed, definitely trying to not say the words 'sorting out his shit.' That he no longer smoked, slept around. I let it slide over me, trying not to read into him.
For the first time in such a long time, i lived in the moment, not thinking about wanting to kiss him, or taking him to my bed, or even beyond the words coming out my mouth. That there was full content in just being with him. Like the evening we met in the pouring rain at Euston. Him sitting quietly waiting, working on his laptop. I was so happy later sitting with him and the stranger who commented on my bruising worryingly in the daggy pub round kings cross. He said it had been a while since he had had a good time. He said it again to me that night. Songs like 'Naive' and 'All I have' played on the TV, songs I can no longer listen to... Again suspended I wait for the fall or drop.
cause the world is round and he might return.
Drunk, pretty, unraveling nervousness and under heartfelt suspition I tried to talk to R, my foot shaking, taping. I told him I couldn't keep it still, the other had come to my show, bringing my restlessness. That he was watching me. That hopeless look searching for something else in me, stirring something i forgot existed, him and me. I told him that I was angry at myself, for the continuing whatever this was, that I've changed in a thousand ways this past year, but he's the last part of me to disappear. He said something like when you have electricity with someone it never just fades, especially when neither of them want to it.
Surprisingly he approached us joining our conversation and R taking a silent queue bid me farewell and congrats on my piece. The brown eyed man came closer and perched on the seat and our bubble enveloped both of us. I shouldn't stop shivering. I watched him, too closely, it felt like a million years since we were this close, but still familiar and natural. He talked about our anniversary, the night on the plot in the mist and orange glow of London on that early cold morning that I hoped would have also brought a happy ending for me and him, together. (he had remembered everything, like crystal, like me). He told me how much he'd changed, definitely trying to not say the words 'sorting out his shit.' That he no longer smoked, slept around. I let it slide over me, trying not to read into him.
For the first time in such a long time, i lived in the moment, not thinking about wanting to kiss him, or taking him to my bed, or even beyond the words coming out my mouth. That there was full content in just being with him. Like the evening we met in the pouring rain at Euston. Him sitting quietly waiting, working on his laptop. I was so happy later sitting with him and the stranger who commented on my bruising worryingly in the daggy pub round kings cross. He said it had been a while since he had had a good time. He said it again to me that night. Songs like 'Naive' and 'All I have' played on the TV, songs I can no longer listen to... Again suspended I wait for the fall or drop.
posted by HT company at 18:54
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