Happy Anniversary.
One year ago:
I clutch a crumpled page featuring a black outlined star. I walk to meet him at the 72th street subway entrance. We eat hot dogs.
"We need to talk. Well, I need to talk...(bullshit bullshit I've forgotten this now)...You're the biggest mistake I've made. Getting back with you. I can't do this anymore.
Yesterday, one year later:
Mall entrance in Newport News, thousands of miles away from that subway station, thousands of thoughts and hopes and crushed hearts later. I'm walking in, unmade, unbeautiful, rushing. He bumps into me. Conversation ensues, I discuss the Matthew saga (or lack thereof) and birthday tears. There is a hug, there is a kiss upon my forehead. It burns with joy and with hope. I walk inside.
He is there, he is behind me.
"I never really got to go shopping with you when we were together. I'm not going to pass this up now."
We browse, I babble. Incoherent with surprise, shock, and (dare I say it?) happiness. I haven't smiled this much in so so long. I'm laughing and talking. I leave my cigarettes and my discontent locked in my car. He stands with me, occasionally stepping on my heels, knocking things over when conversation grows heated/excited. He is there, here for this one hour that makes things seem simple. He remains thin, his face is so familiar, yet I can't recognize him.
There is a record store. I spout off records. Shins, Wilco, fuck even Snoop Dogg. He picks up a family guy boxed set, I get thrills across my back, my stomach.
"First thing I bought when I moved out!"
He gets excited knocks it over. Conversation cannot end, this seems like a beginning, or a continuation. I'm looking at the shins record I end up buying. He is there. There are arms around my waist, a head puddled upon my shoulder. Gentle, gentle I lean against him. The puzzle pieces I've been searching for connect as our bodies rest for those moments. Time stops. Vision blurs.
"I should go."
I invite him over saturday. Please be there. You were there for the first time, don't make it the last. I miss you, dare I say, I may still feel for you.
go your own way, I'll be waiting, make mistakes and I'll forgive you.
I clutch a crumpled page featuring a black outlined star. I walk to meet him at the 72th street subway entrance. We eat hot dogs.
"We need to talk. Well, I need to talk...(bullshit bullshit I've forgotten this now)...You're the biggest mistake I've made. Getting back with you. I can't do this anymore.
Yesterday, one year later:
Mall entrance in Newport News, thousands of miles away from that subway station, thousands of thoughts and hopes and crushed hearts later. I'm walking in, unmade, unbeautiful, rushing. He bumps into me. Conversation ensues, I discuss the Matthew saga (or lack thereof) and birthday tears. There is a hug, there is a kiss upon my forehead. It burns with joy and with hope. I walk inside.
He is there, he is behind me.
"I never really got to go shopping with you when we were together. I'm not going to pass this up now."
We browse, I babble. Incoherent with surprise, shock, and (dare I say it?) happiness. I haven't smiled this much in so so long. I'm laughing and talking. I leave my cigarettes and my discontent locked in my car. He stands with me, occasionally stepping on my heels, knocking things over when conversation grows heated/excited. He is there, here for this one hour that makes things seem simple. He remains thin, his face is so familiar, yet I can't recognize him.
There is a record store. I spout off records. Shins, Wilco, fuck even Snoop Dogg. He picks up a family guy boxed set, I get thrills across my back, my stomach.
"First thing I bought when I moved out!"
He gets excited knocks it over. Conversation cannot end, this seems like a beginning, or a continuation. I'm looking at the shins record I end up buying. He is there. There are arms around my waist, a head puddled upon my shoulder. Gentle, gentle I lean against him. The puzzle pieces I've been searching for connect as our bodies rest for those moments. Time stops. Vision blurs.
"I should go."
I invite him over saturday. Please be there. You were there for the first time, don't make it the last. I miss you, dare I say, I may still feel for you.
go your own way, I'll be waiting, make mistakes and I'll forgive you.