Thursday, May 8, 2008
The way you smell
G slept in my bed last night. Yuck. And it smells like him. And I wish it smelled like you. I have got to get over that.
Letter to An Ex
I am sorry. I really did love you. I know you'll never forgive me. And I know you'll never ask me back. I know you'll never talk to me again and Ill never see you again. I should probably say thank you. Or that we had a great time. I'm scared and I'm sad. I wish you loved me enough to at least ask me to stay. Its too much. All the time apart, the jealousy, the agony of not being enough for you. I want to be there for you. I would love to be the one for you. I know I'm not and I'm so lonely. I cant stay with you with no end in sight. I don't want to be alone. I'm scared you'll get a girl. A Boston girl. M maybe but you'll never marry me. I wish you could have Maybe we could have made it, but I don't think so.
The thing is, its been you for so long that I don't know how to be with anyone else. I am trying to forget you. The way you smell. The BIG of you. Your hands. Sleeping next to you. These are the things I missed even when we were together. Things like the way you give head. And the way we slept together. And the way you look at me when you're hard.
I wont miss faking it. Or yelling about text messages in my phone. I wont miss having to go to bed every night when you're ready. Or having to explain the exact placement and relation of every person I chance to bump into. I want you to be happy for me. I wish you had said "I am so proud of you." Instead of "I knew I would see you flirting when I watched it." I wish you trusted me. Although, maybe you shouldn't.
You never even wanted to meet my friends. You're still mad I missed your birthday at midnight. You think I dated the Diamond Man. You never came to see me. You wouldn't fly me to you. You and I are not forever. But you've been around so long it's so wierd.
Love,
K
The thing is, its been you for so long that I don't know how to be with anyone else. I am trying to forget you. The way you smell. The BIG of you. Your hands. Sleeping next to you. These are the things I missed even when we were together. Things like the way you give head. And the way we slept together. And the way you look at me when you're hard.
I wont miss faking it. Or yelling about text messages in my phone. I wont miss having to go to bed every night when you're ready. Or having to explain the exact placement and relation of every person I chance to bump into. I want you to be happy for me. I wish you had said "I am so proud of you." Instead of "I knew I would see you flirting when I watched it." I wish you trusted me. Although, maybe you shouldn't.
You never even wanted to meet my friends. You're still mad I missed your birthday at midnight. You think I dated the Diamond Man. You never came to see me. You wouldn't fly me to you. You and I are not forever. But you've been around so long it's so wierd.
Love,
K
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
You're Not the One
You're not him.
You're not her.
I haven't seen you in years.
It's been six years since we were together.
Here are somethings I remember about us.
Kissing you in the hallway of the hotel.
Falling asleep in the hallway.
Waking up smiling every day we were together.
You flying in for my graduation.
Being angry with you for being so weak.
Giving you up for GP.
Kissing GP in the back of his truck when I should have been kissing you.
You teaching me how to get a six pack.
You living in CO.
When you showed up I was just glad it wasn't awkward. And I imagine that in any group two people who used to be what we were would notice each other more than anyone else.
I didn't know that when you showed up that it would be like that. I didn't know you still felt that way. What about her. What about him? I'm not happy but you swear you are. And she is young and pretty and sweet, I'm sure. Well, I know she is fucking young. Not a boost for my ego, by the way, to think of her body compared to mine and you seeing both of them. I hate to think that her tits are nicer than mine, or her stomach is flatter, or even that those dimples on my ass haven't snuck onto hers yet. I know what its like to be 20- your body is perfect and you don't even know it. Bloody bitch.
I am not the girl that got away. I don't think. Although, I guess I did get away. I think I just said that to make you feel better. And me too. To feel less guilty, really. I can't remember where it switched over, where the intimacy began. I can't think of the moment where we went from friends with distance and trepidation to touching, bodies orbiting each other. Maybe it only switched for you, and your pull and suggestions and hold on the part of me that used to be yours just took me along for the ride so that when I came out of the bathroom and you were standing there the only logical thing to do was kiss you. Smash into you and hold on for dear life.
It does not escape me that you haven't called. I know that maybe you can't because of her. But i think that maybe this is your way of getting back at me for doing this to you years ago. and I know that this will fade and then I wont think about you again for awhile.
It doesn't escape me that maybe Sunday was just loneliness. I am horribly, terribly, bitterly lonely. It was easier when we were drunk. And if you had left it at that we could have pretended it was only a drunken mistake. But there was Sunday. I have never wanted so much to press against someone and feel their body against mine. I have never wanted so much to be near someone. Of course it doesn't hurt that it was you. That you are like a rock. You did not get fat. (Ha, neither did I and thank god for it.) That my body remembered yours and immediatly craved all the things that I never had from you. I forgot how young we were and how little we actually did sexually. You were right- you are not that innocent anymore. But you do still have that oral fetish that I forgot about. I knew you would want to go down on me. I knew when I was showering. I shaved just to be ready, in case. I could hear your voice in my head saying "I want to taste you." How can she not like it? Idiot.
Here's the thing. Were not going to be together and you certainly can't talk to me. When you said that you would think about me and I said you wouldn't I didn't know that I would. And damn it all to fucking hell, but you cant hire me now. And why did you ever tell her about me? I can't even slip you a note. She knows who I am and what we were. And do you really not lie to her? What now? You didn't tell her I was there for a reason, I think. You'll have to lie to her now. Even if it is by omission. But if what we stole was only a flashback then maybe it doesn't matter.
I wonder if she saw the marks on your back.
You're not her.
I haven't seen you in years.
It's been six years since we were together.
Here are somethings I remember about us.
Kissing you in the hallway of the hotel.
Falling asleep in the hallway.
Waking up smiling every day we were together.
You flying in for my graduation.
Being angry with you for being so weak.
Giving you up for GP.
Kissing GP in the back of his truck when I should have been kissing you.
You teaching me how to get a six pack.
You living in CO.
When you showed up I was just glad it wasn't awkward. And I imagine that in any group two people who used to be what we were would notice each other more than anyone else.
I didn't know that when you showed up that it would be like that. I didn't know you still felt that way. What about her. What about him? I'm not happy but you swear you are. And she is young and pretty and sweet, I'm sure. Well, I know she is fucking young. Not a boost for my ego, by the way, to think of her body compared to mine and you seeing both of them. I hate to think that her tits are nicer than mine, or her stomach is flatter, or even that those dimples on my ass haven't snuck onto hers yet. I know what its like to be 20- your body is perfect and you don't even know it. Bloody bitch.
I am not the girl that got away. I don't think. Although, I guess I did get away. I think I just said that to make you feel better. And me too. To feel less guilty, really. I can't remember where it switched over, where the intimacy began. I can't think of the moment where we went from friends with distance and trepidation to touching, bodies orbiting each other. Maybe it only switched for you, and your pull and suggestions and hold on the part of me that used to be yours just took me along for the ride so that when I came out of the bathroom and you were standing there the only logical thing to do was kiss you. Smash into you and hold on for dear life.
It does not escape me that you haven't called. I know that maybe you can't because of her. But i think that maybe this is your way of getting back at me for doing this to you years ago. and I know that this will fade and then I wont think about you again for awhile.
It doesn't escape me that maybe Sunday was just loneliness. I am horribly, terribly, bitterly lonely. It was easier when we were drunk. And if you had left it at that we could have pretended it was only a drunken mistake. But there was Sunday. I have never wanted so much to press against someone and feel their body against mine. I have never wanted so much to be near someone. Of course it doesn't hurt that it was you. That you are like a rock. You did not get fat. (Ha, neither did I and thank god for it.) That my body remembered yours and immediatly craved all the things that I never had from you. I forgot how young we were and how little we actually did sexually. You were right- you are not that innocent anymore. But you do still have that oral fetish that I forgot about. I knew you would want to go down on me. I knew when I was showering. I shaved just to be ready, in case. I could hear your voice in my head saying "I want to taste you." How can she not like it? Idiot.
Here's the thing. Were not going to be together and you certainly can't talk to me. When you said that you would think about me and I said you wouldn't I didn't know that I would. And damn it all to fucking hell, but you cant hire me now. And why did you ever tell her about me? I can't even slip you a note. She knows who I am and what we were. And do you really not lie to her? What now? You didn't tell her I was there for a reason, I think. You'll have to lie to her now. Even if it is by omission. But if what we stole was only a flashback then maybe it doesn't matter.
I wonder if she saw the marks on your back.
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