What's done is done and in the past, good things come and go so fast
There are two parts you can look at. The during, and then the telling. The telling is a lot worse than the during. In the telling, first I lied, and said nothing happened. Then I was faced with a confrontational, "did you kiss him?", to which I hesitantly replied, "yes". Which, by dictionary definition is not true, and by my definition is a lie. A kiss (by the dictionary terms) is: to touch with the lips esp. as a mark of affection. Affectionate it was not. A drunk guy tried to kiss me, I pushed him away, and went home. I am at fault for going to that party. I shouldn't have been there. I knew it from basically the time I got there. So, why did I say yes, when Joe asked if I kissed him? I should have said, "Not exactly".
This time I know on my terms I want to be with Joe. God, this is all fucked up. I don't know what he's picturing. Picture a drunk smelly guy, surprise attacking you with his lips. Scary. But you know what's really scary? I'll tell you...
Not being able to fall asleep thinking of lying next to Joe. Not ever being able to hold his face in my hands, smiling, and calling him my sweet boy. Not being able to look so good in his t-shirts. Not being able to giggle and laugh as he tries to touch my knees under the sheets. Not being jealous of the sweet things he says to his dog, because I won't be around to hear them. Not having him come up behind me and rub my shoulders. Not wearing my favorite ring. Telling Moxy her daddy's gone. Him not driving my car anymore. Not fighting over which CD to listen to. Not having people stare at us because to them we look like a mismatched couple, but really we're perfect for eachother.
You can only fight with someone you love. You care enough to exert the energy, and to want them to understand you. Jesus fucking christ, Joe. Will you just come back? I fucked up, I know. I'll do anything. We know what we need to do to be together, we know we can do it. That party is nothing like what you think it was. He tried to kiss me. Tried! Please.
This time I know on my terms I want to be with Joe. God, this is all fucked up. I don't know what he's picturing. Picture a drunk smelly guy, surprise attacking you with his lips. Scary. But you know what's really scary? I'll tell you...
Not being able to fall asleep thinking of lying next to Joe. Not ever being able to hold his face in my hands, smiling, and calling him my sweet boy. Not being able to look so good in his t-shirts. Not being able to giggle and laugh as he tries to touch my knees under the sheets. Not being jealous of the sweet things he says to his dog, because I won't be around to hear them. Not having him come up behind me and rub my shoulders. Not wearing my favorite ring. Telling Moxy her daddy's gone. Him not driving my car anymore. Not fighting over which CD to listen to. Not having people stare at us because to them we look like a mismatched couple, but really we're perfect for eachother.
You can only fight with someone you love. You care enough to exert the energy, and to want them to understand you. Jesus fucking christ, Joe. Will you just come back? I fucked up, I know. I'll do anything. We know what we need to do to be together, we know we can do it. That party is nothing like what you think it was. He tried to kiss me. Tried! Please.