i want you

my phone buzzes
sliding across my table.
D
D
it’s D again.
It’s been weeks, since I’ve seen him
touched him
heard from him.

I hold my breath, wanting the phone to stop.
I feel like he can see me, ignoring his call.
I sit nervous, so nervous.

Once the love was strong
Now it’s long, long gone
Cause the pain, came down like a storm
i remained holding on
Cause I want you, cause I want you
I want you, I want you

message recieved.
you’ve heard that i’ve been sick
my lungs refused to get fixed
‘I want to make you soup’ you say
‘I hope you feel better’ you say

Once the love was strong
Now it’s long, long gone
Cause the pain, came down like a storm
i remained holding on
Cause I want you, cause I want you
I want you, I want you

I lie here sick
my chest burns
my throat raw
my body heavy
but my heart

my heart is weak
my heart misses you
my heart is weak

I hate that i need you this much
I hate that i want you this much
so I lie
lie in bed
lie to Seb
lie to my self
and sleep
wanting you to disappear

December 10, 2007. love, memory, men. 1 comment.

blessed

i stir from sleep
as Seb moves beneath the sheets
and between my legs.
the perfect wake up call.

it’s been a weekend of sex.
empty gatorade bottles and condom wrappers litter my floor.
the air smells of it,
our skin tastes of salt.

get closer, get closer
lean on me now, lean on me now

I count my blessings having Him around.
1 2 3 4 … I could go on forever.

I love that I can say nothing and you know everything.
I love that you play with the tight curls of my hair.
I love that you smile when you sleep.
I love that your eyes say more that your words.
I love that you love me more than any man has.
I love that I love you more than I have loved any other man.
I hate that I do the hurtful things that I do.
But most of all I would hate if you ever found out.

We lay about my bed. Limbs tangled.
I hear him breath softly has he sleeps and my mind wanders.
I watch him smile off in his dreams.
My phone beeps
message pending

It’s D. Call me. We need to talk.

My heart sinks, and so it begins.

November 23, 2007. C'est Moi, memory, men, sex. 2 comments.

i never

The game is called i never.
The premise is to find out as much dirt on your friends as possible.

Standing in line watching the scensters go by, we played.
It starts off nice and easy.
Tame.

i have never made out with a stranger in a bathroom stall.

I raised my hand.
Bathroom stall and a stranger? Tame.

i have never lied to a lover.

I raised my hand again.
More hands followed, eyes wandering hesitantly as past lovers avoided lovers past.

My turn now.

i have never 69’ed on a plane.

Smiling to myself I raised my hand.
A pregnant pause as stunned faces turned towards me.

Who are you? Yoli asked
Where was it?
Who was it with?
What airline?

I bit my tongue, suddenly sorry for my little spill.
Sitting here now I can’t help but wonder if my dear friends think I am quite the slut.

September 24, 2007. C'est Moi, memory. 2 comments.

my lipgloss is poppin

“I am not that kind of girl.” I whispered brushing my lips against his cheek.  I leaned in so close I could practically taste the mint gum he always loved to chew. Picking my rumpled vintage velvet purse off of the counter I dug about for my lip gloss a standard avoidance maneuver D could clearly read.  We knew each other well enough.
“And what kind of girl that?” He would ask, snapping his gum.
A sign of nervousness that I recognized clearly. I let the silence grow, I wanted him to feel more than the pricks and bites that tickled up and down his arms when I grabbed his fingers.  I wanted more than the standard lust/love reaction.
“The kind of girl that kisses a Boy-Face in public.” I shifted in my seat letting my knee brush his.
“Don’t kiss me then. I won’t mind.”
Lair.

September 6, 2007. dating, love, memory. 1 comment.

single envy

Johnny G’s.
Parliment and Carelton.
Hungover Brunch.

The June sun burnt our skin and lips as we walked from my apartment.
JJ had spent the night with D and I round at my place.

JJ was a pretty young thing with white blond hair, trident white teeth and the sexiest lips.
Dating one of the scenster power players she led the fairy tale life.
commitment sex,drugs on tap, and a discount at AA.
Whether she had noted our drunken fuckfest that took place on the bed next to her she did not say anything.
As usual I had pushed D out of my door and calmed my headache with cataflam and coffee.

“I envy you.”
It took everything I had not to choke on the eggs that now stuck to the roof of my mouth.
Was the girl delirious?
“Envy me? Have you lost your mind!”
What I would give for a cute musician boyfriend who I didn’t have to share.
What I would give for her perfect pout and tiny waist.
What I would give for a discount at AA.
“It must be fun, meeting new people, dating different men.”
She had a point, but I wasn’t about to tell her so.
“Do you know me at all? I’d kill for some stability.To know that the man sleeping next to me is in it for the long haul.”
She shrugged and nodded.
“I’d rather have a man fuck me like D fucked you.”

August 15, 2007. memory. 2 comments.

letters to a boy-face.

Dear D,

I realize I can’t hate Red-Leggings.
She loves you.
Like I once did, and sort of still do.
She doesn’t know me, who I am or was to you.
She smiles to much for a girl sharing a boy.
There is no hurt.

Dear D,

What Seb has, you seem to lack.
What Seb has, I need.
What I need is commitment.
I will take it from him,
But do I still wait for you?

Dear D,
Last night was our final night.
I push you out of bed and on to my floor, right next to your clothes.
I watch you pull your jeans on, over your naked legs for the last time.
I watch your chest rise and fall next to mine for the last time.
Your lips crush mine deep and fierce for the last time.
I smell you on my skin and sheets for the last time.

August 13, 2007. dating, love, memory, men, sex. Leave a comment.

skin to skin

you make me blush.
A little. A lot.
Which is tough, for it is summer and my skin is the color of dark chocolate.
I like the way your skin looks next to mine.
Summer loves you and your pink of winter is now gold.
People watch us sitting at St.George station.
You suck vanilla ice cream dripping off of my bottom lip.

On the floor of my bedroom now.
The ice cream sticky on our fingers, sticky on our skin.
I let your hands wander and explore. Like a blind man with varying rhythms you tease and scratch.

You are a sleep again, I survey the damage. Scratches criss cross along your skin, marks of passion.

July 13, 2007. memory. 2 comments.

hugo boss and cigarettes

bloc party pulses through the speakers.
A soft hum as I can barely pay attention. Not with you in the room.
As the alcohol settles I watch you make your way towards a stellar looking platinum blond. Her red leggings highlight her curves, I see that you have noticed.
I remember when you used to look at me like that. Your eyes canvassing my every bit of naked skin.
Your dark hair is short now close to your neck and sharp around the edges.I could twist my fingers through it once and you would nip at my neck.

Hidden behind the dark bar and its shadows.
You spot me now and I wave replace my saddened frown with a small smile.
Hugo Boss and tobacco is what you smell off, that and a million dirty memories that I have yet to scuff off of the back of my mind.

“You look good.” You whisper in my ear, biting it. I spot Red-Leggings, she is restless.

“So do you.” I reply as my hand wanders down the small of your back,missing the familiar.

I turn to look at my alarm clock. It’s red digits flash at me in the dark barely highlighting your body next to mine.I tangle my fingers with yours while I watch your chest rise and fall. Deep and slow.
Hugo Boss and tobacco.
I miss the smell of you on my sheets and on my skin.

July 9, 2007. memory, sex. Leave a comment.

faux rockstar

I had ordered my gin & ginger double blissfully unawares of the throng of badly dressed hipster-lites sipping their import beers.
I wandered off to where my own friends stood, tossing darts and catching up on weekly gossip.
“Hey there.”
I turned and there stood Faux Rock-star in all his ‘one hit wonder’ glory.
“Hello.” I replied. A foolish move.

This was followed by:
Two offers of sex
Three offers of tequila
and an assortment of questions.
>>>> “Have you ever dated a white guy before?”
>>>> “Can you name all the ethnicities of your exs’?”
>>>> “Do you want to come back to my place?”

“Your friends are waiting for you.” I hissed.
“Well they can fucking wait all they want. I have to finish my drink and take a piss.” He held his bottle up in salute. “And besides I have a crush on you.”

July 6, 2007. memory, men. Leave a comment.

salt

A bead of sweat slid down my back as I pounded on the door.
The heat was excruciating causing hallucinations and sleep deprivation. I was dark, very dark, ebony and dewy. I liked summer for this reason; my skin seemed to thrive in the hot air. As much as I couldn’t stand it.

I pressed my palms against the cool glass of his window.
The prettiest of views. Where white surf hits the sand.
With endless greens, blues and froth.

He wanted to take a shower. He had spent all day on the shore. Shells cut at his feet, seaweed squished between his fingers. His hair grew lighter, bursts of blond. His skin red and gold.
I kissed his sun freckled lips, tasted of salt.

“Don’t shower.” I said. “I have to leave soon”

I sat on his old recliner. He, on his father’s wicker stool. His shorts still a little damp. I watched his chest rise and fall.

“Tell me a story.” He whispered reaching for me.

I laughed out loud. Perhaps too loud?
I had wanted to tell him a story. Once again I found the taste of salt on his skin and he kissed back.

July 5, 2007. love, memory. Leave a comment.