oubliette

It's about you:

First last night you ran into the shop I was in with a gun, screaming at everyone to get out, get out. I knew you knew me and I think you understood that I was on your side a little bit. You were so svelte, so lithe in your dark navy suit. I was the last to leave. I walked slowly because I wanted to be close to you.

Then there was a flood: high, warm, salty water rose up around us, churning gently at first, then stronger and stronger. I clung to you and nuzzled my face in close to your neck, and you carried me there like a little girl. The pull grew there in the sea and a whirlpool formed. It was going to draw us down under the water. I wanted to tell you that we had never kissed; that I had always wanted to so badly. But I didn't know how to say it, and there was salt water in my mouth.

Finally we were running, playing a little somewhere. You grabbed my wrist and whirled me around and kissed me roughly. It was unpleasant. I thought, "this should have been different."