2002-10-07
10:44 p.m.
maybe we should start again
I'm listening to the songs you played for me. I watched your eyes go faraway, and pictured you over those seven years listening in your room to songs that held you through all kinds of grief (all kinds of joy, confusion, all kinds). Did I really love you all that time? I'm avoiding sleep. I'm at school, avoiding work because I can't make anything beautiful right now; I'm avoiding sleep because my bed is full, full, full of the smell of your hair, the feeling of your arm fitting perfectly under my neck, the ache in my chest knowing your smile lines are not there to kiss. I'm ridiculous, I'm ridiculous, I'm ridiculous. I'm fucking stupid. This is so fucking stupid. But when my mother called and I told her nearly everything, it didn't feel stupid. It didn't feel stupid to say marriage, even to my mother. (I keep seeing the annoying girl from the Crooked Fingers show, the one who danced like she was at a Cranberries concert. The one I wanted to hit and you wanted to push over. I keep seeing her, today loitering outside my school. I love that you wanted to push her over.) My head is spinning. I know we slept because I fell asleep more peacefully than ever just listening to you breathe, but I know we didn't sleep enough because it hurts to keep my eyes open. I want to spend six days with you again, but this time spend it sleeping quietly against your chest. * Fuck, did you see it? Me looking over at you in crowded, dirty rock clubs and shining like we were skipping barefoot through fields of daisies? I don't have words for how stupid or how marvellous I felt all week. here's to you, here's to you, here's to you. your ring keeps surprising me on my hand. maybe I should love you again
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