I used to cry over you and even now as the tears well up I reminisce sleeping in your nook, your smell of cigarettes and soap. I miss you as I listen to bands to told me about, I miss you as I wake from dreams that your OCD rituals plagued, I miss you and I want to kiss you, in all your drunken gloriousness. I itch for those old kisses or any kisses for that matter. Chills run through my body as I think of love and lust and lacking all of it. A romantic, with no romance. I try to find substance and inspiration in this humid life, I try to find wonder and awe in this suburban life, there is nothing yet. Where is my city? Where are the wonderful lights of uncovered stars? Where are you sleeping these days? I long for your hot sheets in exchange for this humid life and our long drives down rocky coasts and dirt roads. Your long fingers holding my hand because at least someone would be holding it. I have let you become my lasting vice. I day dream of running away with you to continents and islands, day dreams that will stay just that, dreams, while I wait and write movies of our unfinished life.
“I didn't mean for this to go as far as it did
And I didn't mean to get so close and share what we did
And I didn't mean to fall in love, but I did
And you didn't mean to love me back, but I know you did”