roxxee

To D

Sitting next to you at that Thai place, outside in the air, you held my hand under the table and I thrilled when you casually brushed my thigh. The conversion was a lulling force to the sharp drumming I felt inside, wishing we were here but that we were not here, but instead in your room. Smiths on your stereo, eating cheese pizza and drinking Light Beer. Perhaps talking about poetry, or the past, or nothing at all. Perhaps abandoning our dinner to kiss all night, to feel your body on top of me, to watch the rythmic pulse of your ceiling fan and hear your breath in my ear. Perhaps just to smoke our Menthols, sitting cross-legged across from one another, I always thought it was amazing that we could talk and not talk. Listening to the rain pouring outside your door, the night swallowing us whole. Sitting there with you I always wanted to feel you, even before I felt you straining against me. I feel it all breaking apart now, was it just a dream? I am breaking to pieces here, it's all so far away. Eating chocolate chip pancakes at IHOP, not going to Star but kissing like mad all day, onion rings on your bed, Basic Instinct, hearing Alan tell it in his own voice, Pink Flamingos, poems, your pajama pants, the way you take up the whole bed when you sleep, the Mongoose and the snowman. That Thai place...