I remeber nothing.
My boxers are icy from my pants hanging low.
My nose is frosted over.
But most of all my eyes are swollen and burned from holding tears in.
It's all Fluffy.
That damn romancer. He loves so hard, I hate it.
I read long long descriptions of his love for a woman he lost.
and for some reason it's all built up. Every syllable I've read
it just built up in me and hit the wrong note or whatever.
He writes like I write but never show anybody.
He remembers things about this girl, little nothings I wish someone would remember about me.
I remember moments like he does.
we all do.
But no one ever tells the stories, no one re caps the moments with their lovers.
In August.
It wasn't my birthday yet. I was stuck in a car with James Vigil for the first time.
We sat next to each other in tee shirts. I remember exactly which street we were on and the bump in the road that knocked our drumsticks onto the floor.
He noticed my mutilated wrist and took it in his hand.
I barely even knew him.
And he laid the saddest look on me. Like no one's ever looked at me.
"Jesus, there are whole chunks missing."
I just shrugged (still a little taken back by his eye contact)
but he still had his fingers gripped around my arm.
and he just held me for a second. It was uncomfortable, but only because I didn't understand what was going on.
I didn't understand that he cared.
But no one ever talks about that stuff.
I hate that.
Everyone wants their memories to be acknowledged.
My nose is frosted over.
But most of all my eyes are swollen and burned from holding tears in.
It's all Fluffy.
That damn romancer. He loves so hard, I hate it.
I read long long descriptions of his love for a woman he lost.
and for some reason it's all built up. Every syllable I've read
it just built up in me and hit the wrong note or whatever.
He writes like I write but never show anybody.
He remembers things about this girl, little nothings I wish someone would remember about me.
I remember moments like he does.
we all do.
But no one ever tells the stories, no one re caps the moments with their lovers.
In August.
It wasn't my birthday yet. I was stuck in a car with James Vigil for the first time.
We sat next to each other in tee shirts. I remember exactly which street we were on and the bump in the road that knocked our drumsticks onto the floor.
He noticed my mutilated wrist and took it in his hand.
I barely even knew him.
And he laid the saddest look on me. Like no one's ever looked at me.
"Jesus, there are whole chunks missing."
I just shrugged (still a little taken back by his eye contact)
but he still had his fingers gripped around my arm.
and he just held me for a second. It was uncomfortable, but only because I didn't understand what was going on.
I didn't understand that he cared.
But no one ever talks about that stuff.
I hate that.
Everyone wants their memories to be acknowledged.