I avoided you like the plague. I detested the very voice of you. Then, you broke it down for me. How you are, how you were and why you are. I saw what you wanted me to see and that’s when I kissed.
I wish I had kissed you more. I wish we had enveloped into each others arms tighter. I wish we had fucked more. I always wish that the morning after. I wish I’d kissed your collarbones for longer because it made you sigh, and I wish I traced my finger around the edges of the tattoo on your shoulder. You showed it to me during one of our “friends” moments, so I could not reach out and touch the blurred black ink. Touching is for our “benefits” moments only. An unspoken, unbreakable rule.
I wish I would sleep with you without the obligatory haze of midnight, weed and alcohol. I’m not sure you know that. Maybe you would be too ethical to do so while not in a relationship with me. Maybe those moments are saved up for the “special someone” you speak about so often. Maybe you would be too emotional to do so when I don’t care as much for you as you do for me. I wish I could try. You’re the sort of lover I picture having sober sex with care, a deliberate and studious look on your face. The kind where the romp-romp and queef don’t sound louder than our hearts beating.
It rained yesterday, and I smiled and wished you were here. And I hate rain on this hot summer day. It’s crazy—I went so far as to wish it had rained during the time you stayed over at my place. All because I’d like to kiss someone in the rain. I’d like to kiss you standing up, sometime. Just a peck, a little careless surprise. When you first get off the elevator. At a busy intersection while we wait for the light to change. A brush of lips against the stubble on your cheek. Or deeply kiss in the silences of the earth spinning. So fast that when I skim past the edges of your lips, I can feel the spin, both the rotation and revolution.
I can’t do these things. I know I can’t do these things.
I know you’d love these things, but that, my “buddy”, is what they call “leading someone on”. I’m afraid I’d do it to feel beautiful and charming and tangle your heart further in mine. I’d love the thrill of it all, the romance of the moment, but none of the memories I’d make would involve your face. You’re already whispering sweet everything in my ear, telling me that I am beautiful. And I haven’t even complimented you. Can’t compliment you. It might be presumptuous to assume that if I do, you’ll never fall for me, they way I will fall for you. But maybe you will. And you are, first and foremost – my friend. A good enough friend that I know the solution to this is the complete opposite of all those I wish.
Even the most delicious things can end up poisoning a person. So quick, before you taste the bitterness. And that’s exactly what you did. You fled into the arms of the next. Chosen.
But wait, what about me your mind questions? Well… you held your balance tight, while I fell with the rotations and the revolutions the first time we kissed.