as you learned the hard way, i love my solitude. as you know, it’s rare that i have these moments of weakness. i do just fine on my own without you.
it’s been one of those days, though. i’m weary. what i wouldn’t have given to come home to you tonight. to walk in the door to find you waiting for me with the home fires burning. hooverphonic pulsing low on the stereo. orange blossom scent on the warm breeze blowing in the doors from the patio. hot take-out waiting in the kitchen. cold beer waiting in the fridge. miles and miles of you waiting on the couch, stretched out with that crooked grin on your face and that look in your eye, ready to wrap yourself around me. my tiny feet tangled in your enormous ones — your goofy little fetish. your hands and mouth all over me until i curl up into your lap and fall asleep. you carry me to bed and let me sleep it all off long and hard.
i won’t care that you’re not here in the morning. i won’t miss you then. i just care that you’re not here tonight. or that i’m not there.
would give anything to travel into time.