you and I are a story that never gets told.

so I miss you all the time, now. I don’t think about much that isn’t you, but feel like a cliché. It is something very completely new. They do not write books about the things that we are. I like that. I like you. I like the way that you curve and bend and dip and arch and rise and pall, like a poem. I like it when you get drunk with your family, then come on msn to tell me that I’m F.O.B. I like sitting in the passenger seat of your truck – it makes me feel like Taylor Swift. I like the muscle in your jaw that twitches when you sleep. I like trains, but they take so long to get you. I like the way you dress. I like the way you undress. I like it when you lift my T-shirt over my head, like in the movies, you know? I like having sex with you. I like the weight of you on top of me and I like the sweat that pools at the bottom of your back. I like writing with my fingertips on your skin all the things I cannot say. I always get lines from poems stuck in my head when you are around. Yes – the springtime were in need of you. I like it when you sing. I like your hair – please don’t grow it long again! I like who I am when I am with you. I like how you make me better. I am learning, I am. I like how you look at me. And though I wish I did not, I love you.

On February 09 2010 Edit

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