inanetangents
Oh the entree of life, how fair it seems. You look at it on the menu, glistening with potential. Then the waiter with his pencil thin mustache and his spit-shined shoes brings out the silver platter, places it in front of your expecting eyes and opens the top. It's just an appetizer. Barely bigger than a child's fist. But it's okay. I know we'll sneak out of here and slip through the drive-thru, eating chili cheese corn dogs in the front seat until it slops down our chins. And then I'll actually be full.
I want to hear the sound of excitement. No more of the sounds of my playlist on repeat while I search the same eight websites for something new and interesting. I want to explore. I want to walk out into the coming hail storm and go eat food and laugh and walk up and down the streets by the light of only the lamps. I want you to stop by because I don't think I can text you again without seeming insane. I just want you.
To hide behind the world in my sunglasses, I wish I could. All I can think of, achingly, unceasingly, is that summer trip. We drove up to see her together. Your sunglasses reflected light back onto the dashboard along with that famous red hair of yours. We scaled the mountains in that Dodge Charger rental and we laughed and loved together and you taught me about life. I waved goodbye that next morning as I crawled back into my garage and my mundane life. If I had known it would have been the last time I would see you, I would have said something more profound, something more meaningful then just my inadequate wave.
nourish my soul for I feel it aching and longing for just one more bite of that dish of your ever-flavorful presence. Starved and aching only for your face once more. Third world children with bulging bellies and welling eyes know only how I feel and that's empty
bitten by first touch to see finally what might be made clear, that I stand naked in the sinking rain and let is douse my skin as I traced circles round your callouses and felt your pulse beat against mine in the knowledge that all shall never be and I hold onto my heart and let it drown in the puddles forming round my rain boots and all that can breathe from my lips is, god, I swore I’d never write anything like this... but you make me feel in shapes, in colors, in ways that music flows through my veins and electrifies each note. such a real to which I have never been privy to, me, who would have thought, but the band plays on after the baton has fallen from the skies and I must not continue, for it would destroy us.