Arizona
What a gift to end 2006 with.
I cannot wait until the thirtieth.
Something was real and conventional between our mouths that I don't think I ever had, or ever noticed: a validation between two people that we need someone.
Overly used and typically verbalized? Maybe.
I may be wasting breath, maybe it's the wrong thing (again) at the wrong time (again), and I am only wanting this.
There's one last thing though: we don't care. We don't. We don't dwell on what we have to be, or what we will end up, we only say the things that we want.
Sure, we speak for hours of selfish things, of ourselves, or each other, and other times, we laugh.
Who last made me laugh over the phone?
Who last made me red?
Oh, I don't know.
[I just want to be next to you.]
[[...put your hand up.]]
[Okay, it's up.]
[[Now, put your other hand up against it.]]
[Done.]
[[Okay. Now all you have to do is pretend that one is mine.]]
[...it's working.]
But then she cries of how she loves him.
Fuck you. If ever there was a time that I had the will power to strangle myself, I would. I'd squeeze the life out of me, the sort of way you seem fit. (Only words are going to kill me.) If you were to be found an inconsiderate bitch, would you listen? (Only words would save you.)
The intensity burns and fills itself out, bubbling in my chest and shoots through the backs of my legs.
I breath the stench of carelessness from out of your throat, and exhale my fury. I could be the accepting one, but such the insidious, ridiculous nature of our relationship, shockingly, lacks the depth of what I expect from myself.
That blonde hair of yours swirls downward from your orange roots, only proving of your insides that you are red: you are on fire.
To patch things up, I cry. To vindicate yourself, you say you're dying.
Until the act of suffocation occurs, I willfully, unwillingly, scratch until I hit beneath the surface.
I prick you with the needles that I say. I make you cry. I make you splatter.
It was a validation that we all need someone.
"I'll see you next week, hopefully."
I cannot wait until the thirtieth.
Something was real and conventional between our mouths that I don't think I ever had, or ever noticed: a validation between two people that we need someone.
Overly used and typically verbalized? Maybe.
I may be wasting breath, maybe it's the wrong thing (again) at the wrong time (again), and I am only wanting this.
There's one last thing though: we don't care. We don't. We don't dwell on what we have to be, or what we will end up, we only say the things that we want.
Sure, we speak for hours of selfish things, of ourselves, or each other, and other times, we laugh.
Who last made me laugh over the phone?
Who last made me red?
Oh, I don't know.
[I just want to be next to you.]
[[...put your hand up.]]
[Okay, it's up.]
[[Now, put your other hand up against it.]]
[Done.]
[[Okay. Now all you have to do is pretend that one is mine.]]
[...it's working.]
But then she cries of how she loves him.
Fuck you. If ever there was a time that I had the will power to strangle myself, I would. I'd squeeze the life out of me, the sort of way you seem fit. (Only words are going to kill me.) If you were to be found an inconsiderate bitch, would you listen? (Only words would save you.)
The intensity burns and fills itself out, bubbling in my chest and shoots through the backs of my legs.
I breath the stench of carelessness from out of your throat, and exhale my fury. I could be the accepting one, but such the insidious, ridiculous nature of our relationship, shockingly, lacks the depth of what I expect from myself.
That blonde hair of yours swirls downward from your orange roots, only proving of your insides that you are red: you are on fire.
To patch things up, I cry. To vindicate yourself, you say you're dying.
Until the act of suffocation occurs, I willfully, unwillingly, scratch until I hit beneath the surface.
I prick you with the needles that I say. I make you cry. I make you splatter.
It was a validation that we all need someone.
"I'll see you next week, hopefully."
posted by Sarah at 12:08 AM
2 comments
