Won't you come and stay

No / yes / no

I dreamt of segue and transition, all the things we've lacked for five years. Off/on, pressure points blasted by full throttle passion. Yes/no/yes- you've never made up your mind. I broke the word happy over our restless flesh, the sweat drawing tension on my tattooed back. The word rained down like petulant raindrops; a midday reprieve from thunder-dance and you need space.

Where we pay homage to each verb tense, we rest easily in the past. We did, we were, it was, we had. I was. You were. We aren't.

This is a transference of desire. A repetition of never-could-be. Bad timing. Nothing wrong, and that's what's right/wrong.

I could stay here with you forever and be content.

Your mouth stole my lips, my breath, my wary response. The silence robbed my sarcasm, my witty heart-hidden reply. Your fingers pushing through my hair, small brown eyes shut against the glare of sunshine showering over us. I have no remedy for the sickness that's eaten us, the cataclysmic notion that we could be anything more than what we've already been (disaster).

A gold star, a lick of communication. A first.

I have no strings to bind your hands. You won't let me fuck up.

I saw her this morning, and all I could think of was you.
I can't believe I just admitted that.