Cold Decembers

You say there’s no place you’d rather be, when you’re lying next to me.

She hates you…no, you hate yourself. You’re not cocky; you wish you had enough confidence to be. That way, it wouldn’t hurt so much when you get home, and all the layers come off. You were real slick and you loved the contact. You tried, baby, you tried and she blew you off. Trust, it hurt her more than it could ever hurt you to do it, you have no idea. She wishes that I didn’t kill her and hide her in the back of my mind, but she’s gone now. It hurt her though. She wasn’t allowed to speak; but I was blind and mute in your presence. In retrospect, you were worth so much more than the friendship I sacrificed everything for.

The time it takes to realize one’s potential, the strength it takes to admit you’ve fallen victim to the illusory charms of life. I really don’t understand why you did this to me. Why did you make me love you? And there you are, naked for the world to see. But they don’t see your skin, the thick skin that hides your heart. That’s for me, but I don’t want it. You, in love with a cherub, she can’t see it either. The time it takes for me to get over you…too long to exist..

Do you ever wonder what it’s like to be sitting on a rooftop, gazing at the full moon with the one you love, holding you tight, while keeping you warm from the cool air and light breeze; and all you can hear is the song of the crickets and each other’s heartbeats? I’d like to receive flowers. Fake, origami, picked from a weed on the road, picked from your neighbours’ garden…anything. That beautiful smell; intoxicating and their velvety petals; a bed for the insignificant in size. But…I really would just love flowers. It’s too late now. Now they know. Now I’ll never know…

…I don’t want flowers any more.