And the stupid, primitive itch to break away from the girl that truly loves me for the sake of chasing my fancies is making my eyes twitch-- twitch so that I always seem to focus on the gutter punk that was sweet when serving my coffee and looked at me as if expecting some offering, waiting for me to expose my(self) attraction. The red lipstick that walked into my workplace did the same, as did a blonde that complimented my shoes, and the rarity of these pretty moments, these pretties, is a suffocating, petty frustration.
Domains of freedom only provide so much movement, depending on the domain. I keep glancing to the balcony, finding the softest girl I've ever kissed sitting across this table from me to be inadequate despite her fulfilling the most desperate wish for unconditional love, warmth, and beauty in pain. I cause her pain (being the first pain also makes the freedom harder to break from) and yet she remains loving.
*I look up--she's gone.
Now back in my apartment, one of my roommates is having sex right now. I can hear them even though he placed clothing in the dryer and set the timer. His partner is gorgeous, and I'm a little jealous that his charm and warmth outstrip mine. The potential for heartache that accompanies a new partner...that's what I miss. Danger, flirting, new gasps, novel moans, scratch marks as funny as fingerprints.
Can't ignore the pettiness, though.
No comments:
Post a Comment