the grass needs us
I just remembered when we went behind the forest, where the aliens came and attacked us one night, by the lake, and I laid on top of you and we made out in the grass. Then you rolled over me and it was like one of those magical nights you see in the Meg Ryan movies, under the moon. I didn't know you very well then and I remember thinking "I hope he doesn't get the wrong impression of me" I was worried you might turn out to be scary and drag me into the woods. I didn't know your friends very well either and it was their house. The old house. I grew to like it there. It was your home away from home, it soon became mine.
Nights we would spend in the car listening to Copeland and kissing to the sweet melody. We were intense back then. I remember you always wanting to tell me something and I wondering if you did that every time. You felt genuine.
Now I want to roll with you in the grass but I only want to talk and when I usually say that now I always think of the day I ran and died like a roach. The grass was wet and cool and my body was moist and hot.
You still mean so much to me, although we're on a different road. I think you understand that and it's something we both know.
*edit* everyone seems to be a little nostaligic lately. nostalgia is a nice thing sometimes. ignore the morose face my little emoticon is making. it knows no better!
p.s. i miss those subliminally dirty little songs you would play in my car. i wrote a poem about you in my head today when i was listening to Dave Matthews' Band.
I miss you. Whomever you'll give your love to will be one lucky lady.