Many things changed in me since I met you. Three months that were like a year of learning. You are a nice lesson, you are a hot chaotic lesson I wanna learn so bad without bleeding. Lately I've only been bruising my knees around you. Sex has merely become a just another way to keep your soul close to mine. I like your wild side, but I like you more when you look at me. When my eyes find yours while you undress me, when I feel so desired that I almost get confused with love. When you turn me into a teenager kicking her feet and smiling at my phone. When I walk in the street and I think a joke I could say to you, and I smile imagining what would you say.
Sex has become that safe place when I can scream my lungs out of pleasure , and writing is where I can whisper how happy I feel around you.
I wish I could write things about you that you would like to be told, but I can only write about the stuff I genuinely love. I desire you when you smoke next to the window, but I love you deeply when you fix my hair while I look at you. Sometimes I love you in the way that makes me want to get undressed, in the way that I want you to touch me, to bruise me so I can remember every single detail about your hands.
I like it when my heart starts to beat weird, when blood accumulates in my cheeks while you hold me tight in your bed, when I stare at you and you smile cause I look weird.
My favorite thing about you is your smile. I wish you would only smile with me sometimes, that drives me a little insane.
I don't care who you share bed with, I care about who you share the same happiness you give me. Is it the same with any other girl? Do you already have someone like me waiting for you?
Am I just another scratch on your back, another forgettable memory in Virginia, another cigarette under your window?
That drives me insane. All the moments we shared, to think how similar you think I am to someone else, to think how many nights like this you had with other girl, all the dreamy stares girls gift for you.
I don't obsess about it though. I have far much more important things to think about (the moles in your back).
That thing you do with your face when you don't like something, that thing your throat does when you have words stuck in your mind.
I memorized all your details, the way your chest sinks in the middle, the way you always stand differently when you are half naked , the way you never really use your desk and the dust on your bedside lamp.
I'll take a piece of you, even if you don't want to share not even a quarter of your heart. I'll take a memory, I'll put half of what you are in this book, I'll carry a piece of who you are with me here. I want to drag your memory on my back for as long as I can. I want to dream of you each time when you are not a ride of distance close anymore.
I wish your dumb cave man heart could embrace the lovely things you are more than the cold manly stuff you like. There's beauty in understanding that we have a good heart, that there's other thing than sex and cigarettes inside your soul.
You always say you can't say the things that you are, but then you don't have shame admitting that girls love you easily. That's so dumb. That's your worst trait. Your eyes always say "I'm hotter and better than you and you know it"
Anyways, I'm sorry to disappoint, I'm not gonna give food to the fuckman in you, not gonna die saying how much I love the emotional distance you keep trying to create, I just think that makes you look weak.
I think you are stronger when you talk about the things you really do care about, when you open that door for me. When you let me see how much you care, how much you want to provide and protect the people you love. That's the best part of you.
I'll feed with words that kind of man. The one that encourages me with small stuff, the one that laughs with silly jokes, the one that loves when I do the cave man voice.
I always like you better after sex. It's almost like if you were too tired to keep the mask on. Or maybe it's because you let me hear your heartbeat. Maybe it's cause I love your warmth body and that your stomach is always at its worst making awful and funny noises. Maybe it's cause after sex you are the perfect amount of manly and respectful and affectionate with me. You are the perfect amount of hot, sweet, protective and kind to me.
You are the one. For half an hour you are just the perfect man. Oh my god that will make your ego grow so much I hate it.
It's okay, I don't care anymore. You are still gorgeous when you are at your more narcissistic self.
YOU ARE READING
Referees don't fall in love.
PoetryA collection of all the times I wrote to you, and all the things I should have said sooner. Some things are better left unsaid, some things are better left written. It's the good, the bad and the dirty.
