| Current mood: | content |
| Current music: | Minus the Bear; White Mystery |
you've got to be an illusion
your phone call dizzies me with excitement. apparently I will see you thursday. that could be perfect.
it is still not clear what you want from me.. if you want from me. how are you doing this all just cause you want to?
that could be the most perfect gift of all; the idea of you wanting to. or the idea of you wanting. speaking of gifts, I will have to have yours ready by the time I see you. I have made no recent mention of it so that maybe you will forget, and I will take you off guard. the initial mention on your birthday was only to gain intrigue, anyway.
I would love to take you off guard, as you do to me. you practically undo me. you send me pictures of you, by request, and I love that you do. and how can I not melt everywhere? or let you know that I am doing so? you practically shine so bright it's insane, you put the sun to shame. one look and my heart is all kinds of racing from the sight of you.
you want to take me places. we do small things here and there, moving through central pennsylvania like sparks. you say to me out of nowhere, let's go to new york city for new year's. you paint amazing daydreams that hold me when you cant. in the sun and crisp mid-october day, I smile down furiously at my newest text message from you, words that will stick with me until after a long night of backbreaking movement at work. we talk about me turning legal in seven months. where has the time gone already? I'll say. really I'm just exploring how short of a time I've had you around. you tell me that we should go somewhere. I say where and you say anywhere... like atlantic city.
the city already knew I would fall in love there. it planned of my visit. gentle rain covered the pavement in the ends of hot sticky summer nights. change came and has come again. autumn is here, and of all people, a libra is helping me rebuild myself, yet again. maybe that is why I am going in the right direction so far. the smiles in the old photographs are a souvenir of worse times.
or maybe I'll find atlantis. the shore is eaten alive by the waves, and I want to be there, with you, if anyone. if I think I'll ever step foot inside that city again it will have to be with you. I want to invite morning with you on the shore, just before day breaks. the air will be thick, heavy and humid, and it will draw us both even if we cant see the stars...
my favorite thing will be the sound of your voice. your voice, after you've been obviously needing sleep for some time but don't want to give in to its throes. it really is something, the way your voice purrs you into a dead giveaway. you keep wanting to see me. I wont hear from you for a day or two, and then you're right back at being sweet to me, like nothing ever changed. this, this is perfect. see. this is how I'd want it to be. with all of the understanding in your throat, and whatever it is you're feeling locked up in your head. with all of the desperately wanting behind my lips, I hope you'll never pass through because I don't think I will be able to contain a desire this voracious against you.
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