Sunday, April 17, 2011

it is sunday night.

I feel old and I miss my friends. I can remember the first time I liked a boy. And the first time I let one kiss me. On the bus with eyes closed until he pulled away and I saw his cheek. I remember the time in front of the library where we used to sit in front of the windows with our knees pulled up so that our bodies touched and I kissed you right before you left. One time in the dark we climbed up into someone's old fort and you put your tongue in my mouth and no one knew. I saw you a decade later and I didn't know what to say anymore.

Tonight I want to be beside you while you cook your dinner. I would lean upon the counter and watch you watch your pan of things that bubble and smell like nights I cannot forget. Or maybe lie upon your floor with eyes staring steadfast at the ceiling and tell you the stories I only tell myself when I am quiet and feel alone. Or maybe...

Remember when you pulled me in and all was new? Remember when we watched a movie and somehow ended up kissing until I cried?

Sometimes I want to scream at the sky. My feet will be planted on the pavement and the asphalt flickers under street lights or headlights or moon light and everyone will know. And I won't have to hide anymore. Just how sad I can be inside.


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