Maybe you're wondering if I've finally had enough of knowing you in whatever form that is at the moment. Maybe you even start to feel sad. But do my eyes interrupt your thoughts? Am I in your head when you look off & away until reality shakes you out of it? What fills me might be empty for you.
I can't make you see it the way I do, but I can try.
I was excited to know you- I know that feeling steers me off course when I really like somebody. If the sex is good, it's all over, I'm a fool. I assume that because our bodies connect so well, our minds will too. But when this doesn't work, I'm hurt by what pleasures me the most. I still see your eyes over my thighs & I want it to mean more. I want my hair pulled by love.
I'm at a strange age.
I don't know which section of clothing I'm supposed to browse through. I feel like a little girl lost in blouses & responsibilities. I feel like a teenager oozing out of expectations & jeans. Cheap seems to be childish but price tags tell me to grow up. I'm almost everything. It all almost fits. I'm Cinderella leaving a shitty shoe behind, everything fancy dissolving into the dreams that created them. I'm a mix of an exiting decade. I'm a blend of confusion on clearance. I look for professional pants & sweatshirts to hug my hangover. It's not practical to be with the sexy jacket that will fall apart after a few wild nights but these thick sweaters make me look tired. I know we are all naked under our presentations of ourselves but if I could, I'd show you all the colors that embrace me just right.