Long Road To Ruin
Because he hit me, or because I stuck around for him to do it again?
Because he fucked me, or because I liked it?
Because I let things go too far, or because I didn't even regret it?
Because he wasn't the first, or the last?
When does it become official? When am I damaged goods?
I still remember some things. I remember the golden hair on your arms, the way you held a fork, your ineptitude with hair product, your crappy taste in music, your cocky driving, your favourite spot at the zoo, the hoodie I bought for you but always stole for myself.
I remember some things very well, but it's the things that I don't remember that matter the most.
I forget what it was like to kiss you, really kiss you.
I forget what you sound like. I can't remember your voice.
I forget how listening to our song used to make me feel, how it was to dance in your arms.
I forget why I thought you were the one;
why we'd always be together;
why I loved
I'd meant to stay in love with you, together or apart. I had such good intentions. But life gets in the way. I've lived. I've lived so much without you that it takes my breath away. I kept going; life kept going. It swept me away. I've been swept away, and not by you. Not this time. Not anymore.
I'm forgetting you little by little.
It's sad in a way. Terrifying. Healing. Soothing. Empowering.
I'm saying goodbye.
I guess you don't get to break my heart after all.
4am Love Song
I will never say these words to your face:
I felt something.
I felt something beyond your tongue on my throat, your hands on my hips, your hardness pushing up inside me.
I felt something else.
I felt like maybe I knew you.
Like maybe the first time didn't necessarily have to be the last.
I stood outside on the concrete step, wrapped in only a sheet, watching you drive away. I didn't wave, I didn't want to. I just leaned my naked shoulder against the post and watched the stars instead of your brake lights. Unseasonably cold for April, I saw my breath in the air and felt the chill of a gentle wind prickle my skin where not long before it held the heat of your stroke.
I could have asked you to stay. You would have stayed, I think, if I'd asked.
I don't do that. Not in a long time. But tonight my bed feels empty. I can still smell your aftershave on the pillow, lingering like our goodnight kiss.
Goodnight or goodbye? I said neither. I merely licked your bottom lip, kissed the corner of your mouth, squeezed your hand and moaned when you brushed my breast with your fingertips.
That said enough.
be in my life
do that again
don't let go...
don't let go.