Sometimes I am confused. I think of all of the numerous I will feel and the things I will, should say whenever I see you again. Because I know I will see you again. The track record has already proven the inevitable.
With all of the sudden deaths happening, it’s evident more than ever that you need to say what’s on your heart to the people in your life because tomorrow is not promised. In that train of thought, I imagine that I’ll be all things that I hate: completely transparent, totally open and super-mushy. I’ll tell you that it’s not the sex that keeps me coming back, it’s possibly love. That I fell in love with you while I was sitting on my living room floor, you on the sofa telling jokes about me hogging all of the wine. That talking to you, even about pure bullshit, is the best thing going. I can appreciate that even though you keep your feelings at bay, you’re still much more open than I. Perhaps you want to hear me say those words. And perhaps that will give me a chance to free myself of what I’ve been holding in for a few years. Yeah–that long, dude.
Then too, I imagine screaming on you. Telling you that I’m not as naive and crazy as you think. I know you seek me out because you think I’ll fall into your trap every time. I know that you care nothing for me. If you did, you would SHOW it and not just when sleeping with me is convenient. A man is only as good as his word, so what does that say about you?
So exactly how do you do both when you’re only used to doing neither?
