5-27-08I want you to get it. I apologize that we have been a bit –blageau (cloudy) [unclear] translucent. Come into these words. I want you to understand them. You may misconstrue, misread or misinterpret; just don’t neglect to get in it. Feel it to its full comprehension. Let your fingers sink in the substance and dig around. Because I really want you to feel, I cant let a chance to touch something solid pass us by. When I write I always want it to be significant, I like when it rocks my perception—makes my thoughts open up. Sometimes I just let the words run wild. I skip back to it and I’ve just realized you have no clue what I’m talking about. I think you need to feel it too. I’m not looking for a shared experience…I guess I’m just looking to share. So take my apology for every over-thought apostrophe, every idea so surreal Dali couldn’t paint it. It’s more important that you are touching it than passing your eyes over top of big, insignificant words. “Draw me unto you and we will run together,” I will be clear and you can really get it.
the evanescent thump of you
pervading in my inappropriate parts–
to the second gender that smells as sweet,
to the separate lender who I never keep,
sweep my wave again,
pulse my crave my friend
because there are where the words lie;
because this is why I cannot cry.
caught in the mind of me,
all in the thought of three.
First love was hard to get over.
Click Comfortable by John Mayer to listen while you read.
This song described everything so perfectly when M would play it. I could’ve sworn my ex was singing about me when he’d play this on the guitar so often when we would hang out! At least, I wanted him to be…
I felt so strongly when I finally realized I was in love for the first time, didn’t you?
If he meant what he sang then she’ll finish the last line.
If he knows what she means than it might just be comfy.
If you read between the lines, I swear she’ll write you another.
broken English, stolen love songs, I’m a waiting blanket;
please give me another.
So I want that–
the album art of Kings of Convenience incarnating itself in my disconnected days.
I want the touch of a person beside me breathing,
creating a place where my day to day gets noticed.
Not independent, but connected, wholly needing, completely wanting just to touch, just knowing someone is there, that we care about more then just our “faith”-which has turned so cold in my arms.
Bring me the blanket of broken relationships, the warm tears of connected imperfection
the incomparable beauty of unconditional acceptance, the real smile in loving the only way we know how.
Hoping that a genuine relationship is more than just an old wives tale,
Caring more then just the next laugh, or the comfortable flow of non-confrontational conversation.
I want to touch, I want a crash, I want my pieces to be broken and mixed in with yours.
I think the cuts might heal us both.
Stop my individualistic bullshit, I want community.
Cotton candy memory of nights spent with you,
I can only hold onto it for so long.
The pinkness of first love and kisses
Marching next to Tomorrow of simple white and blue.
Sweet smiles are temperate;
Sweet kisses, shorter than that.
My hand is grasping, holding, waiting
Yours is just (still) out for something new.
How long can I wait,
How long can I hold on
For my pink dreams to reappear
And my white and blue to just become true.
But my dreams look more like memories now
and my fingers stick together
It would’ve been sweet; it would’ve been pink,
It would’ve been could’ve been short breaths and crazy coo ~of you.
So when do (did) I let go
And say enough’s enough,
Stop this dreamy hope
And decide the pink’ll do.
Figuring it all out.
My motivation for so much more than I want it to be.
I’m independent, yeah. But when I sit and my date won’t answer her phone all I think are crazy thoughts. My desire for you, for someone, for anyone drives me to be desperate. And believe me that’s the last thing I ever want.
My cool calm plan is blown out the window because I just want you to love me, and I always think you might not. I want to be cherished, to be wanted not needed…but isn’t this just me, needing you.
It’s not you actually. Don’t get confused. I mean I like you, But I want you to be there for me. To rub my feet; kiss my sweetly, but not long. Hold my hand and smile at me. Bring me coffee in the morning. Surprise me. I just want you.
And right now that shape takes a form but you know I don’t expect you to be this. It’s just this desire inside me and I can’t pretend it’s not there and since you fill my shape I might get you confused with my you sometimes. I don’t mean to, but I think I do want to.
So I sit alone in my room and I just want you to call; but I don’t, cause you’re not him. But I do….because I guess you are.