25 May 2011

For JP

Her brown eyes, sad and heavy.
Her skin, aching and curious
to crawl under crisp, white sheets
and find him there,
breathe him in,
taste and fall...

Turned away on her own side,
she is left with dreams
of the touch of his cold, foreign hand,
his breath hot on the back of her lonely neck,
and a whisper in her ear -
the terrified confessions
of two strangers in love
that they don't understand.

Middle of the night
and she knows he is waking up
to start his day, somewhere.
Her sleepy fingers, under wrinkled blankets,
crawl up her white thighs instead
in pleasure, in sorrow, in his honor.
Swallowing every word left unsaid,
she closes her troubled eyes
and her heart pounds,
forever unrequited.

07 May 2011

Difficult

Ah, it would be so easy to write a one sentence letter to you: Dear C, I miss you, your friend.

I ask myself why I should miss you and all I can say, despite everything, is that I simply just do. Truth be told, it bothers me more that I cannot say those words to you. Well, I could ... but you, like usual, would prefer to say nothing at all (not even a "fuck off"). I go home soon and I have not told anyone save for family. You would always be the first to know. You were always a part of home and I am still learning to understand that you are no longer a part of home.

I keep repeating one thing:
It is what it is ... and it is over.

How good would it feel to see your eyes one more time, to feel your arms around me, to make you smile. How happy I would be to hear you say that you miss me. I wish in circles, pointless circles, for something that will never be done or said ... and I have wished for such things when you still had affection for me.

I have learned that grieving for a loved one all alone is truly horrible and that every one deserves closure. You never gave me my closure.

I have learned to fantasize without your face ruining my desire but I still feel your finger running down my arm and I smile and I wince at the same time. So, instead, I fill my thoughts with pleasuring my colleague, office sex in supply rooms and stairwell, his long hair tangled in my fingers and his tongue explores between my thighs, consoling him during or after a hockey game. Swearing in French with his lips against mine as he aggressively pushes me against the wall.

Sometimes, it helps me forget you and how much of a mess I am.

01 May 2011

on my side

C~

my mistake is that i stuff the hole where you once were with too much work and other men who don't mind to share music, thoughts.

there are nights like these where i cannot stuff anymore in this wound even though i try my hardest. all of a sudden, i feel like i have been thrown and abandoned in a wide open field with no clothes on my body. exposed.

in a little voice and big tears, i say to myself, i miss you. i am selfish and i miss you. i am a stupid fool who tries too hard to fool everyone. i am dark and lonely and you were the only one who seemed to understand. in my mind and in email, i could think of you and know that this lonely fool is not so lonely because you are there in some way or another.

but you're no longer there, my friend.

this is not about love. this is not about lust. i miss you always having my back, always liking me as a person in your life. it would be so easy to say hello but i won't as i know you do not wish for me to be around any longer. i remind you of mistakes and pain.

i am your mistake and you are the one i miss so terribly tonight.