If the premonitions weren’t so clear, I’d make them up anyway.
How do you time things so aptly? Why is today the first we’ve spoken since you told me hanging on was harmful? Can you feel my unidentified sadness? Do you prey on it? Or are you only intending to comfort? If the former, go to hell. Bring me with you. If the latter, those interests would be better served with our bodies entwined.
Oh God, how systematically we fit. I get scared when I picture the arms of another wrapped around me. Scared they will not compare to your hold. Do I miss you, or do I miss us in your bed? Questions I am afraid to answer. All I want are answers.
Why is it always like this? The cyclical nature, the Tilt-A-Whirl of relationship. I know the pattern, but I do not stop it from recurring. I pay the fare, I board the ride, I spin round and round, mistaking adrenaline for euphoria. I might throw up. We move closer together and farther apart simultaneously.
I wish you would fly across the country.
I wish you would come over tonight.
I refuse to allow myself to open up to anyone else. I want it to be you. I want you to notice. I want you to remember. I want you to care.
Or I want you to be gone.
In three weeks, it will be six blocks. The magnetic pull of the universe. But you resist me. Oh, how you resist me. Teach me to reciprocate. Teach me all the methods you use to release and draw me in again and again so that I may be better equipped for combat. The war is won before the first bullet is fired. Failure is impending and inevitable.
Leave me in the trenches.
June 12, 2014