Probably Crying

How did it sound to miss me? Was it angry? Be honest – are you angry still? What did it feel like if not forgiveness? Do you suppose it ever will? Will we ever get past this? Do you remember? Do you reminisce? You’re plush carpet between my fingers, guitar strings, soapy clean, wrap me up warm like rainy day dreams. What does my dusty corner of your mind look like? What did you bury me behind? What did you bury beside me? I dug up my life for you – your turn. What hurt you while I was gone? I want to hear your voice wrapped around a lover’s name. I want to watch you walk a haunted lane. Remind me what I came for. Does this mean a thing to you anymore? Are you making me try this hard for a reason? What’s the reason you never came looking for me? Was it easy? Is it easy still? What have you forgiven? What can you forgive? Do you think that a person can be more than the worst thing they’ve ever done? What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?

I hate when I'm watching a show and it gets ruined by a cute couple doing sweet shit.

Well, let it pass, he thought; April is over, April is over. There are all kinds of love in the world, but never the same love twice.

I always have such need to merely talk to you. Even when I have nothing to talk about – with you I just seem to go right ahead and sort of invent it. I invent it for you. Because I never seem to run out of tenderness for you and because I need to feel you near. Excuse the bad writing and excuse the emotional overflow. What I mean to say, perhaps, is that, in a way, I am never empty of you; not for a moment, an instant, a single second.

My God, I missed you. I missed you to the point where I settled for other people I hoped would take your place. They never did. But I kept them around, and I let them take me to the places I wish I could have went with you. We would arrive at our destination and I’d still be thinking about where you were.