Cherry Flavored Epiphany
One and lonely
Officially, it’s been five years since the last time your warm lips danced against mine in parting. It’s been five years and two weeks since the last time I yawned and insisted I wasn’t tired before falling asleep beside you. It’s been five years and three months since the last time we went as high as we could go, pushed our limits and let ourselves be free. It’s been five years, six months, and two days since the last time you pissed me off and we didn’t talk for a week, then we talked for three days and two nights without stopping.
In the last five years, have you grown? Did you get taller, deeper, bigger? Would it cost more to seek you out now? And how many people have you lulled to sleep in the last five years and two weeks? Were they ever as free as we were? Did they care, like we didn’t? Well, I know you never did, never will. But that doesn’t matter, the specifics don’t matter, because as well as I’ve recorded every little detail, I can’t remember a single one. Accept for the things that everyone tells me, which I believe in a heart beat because I want something to believe; It’s no good if I don’t have stories to tell.
I wonder, what will you taste like when we next meet? Cherry or grape - I used to love grape - or orange or blue or just that plain, sick flavor some people seem to favor. It’s gross, it really is, you know? Maybe, though, you will taste like nothing, and be smooth and slick instead so that all I will taste is remnants of dinner; That’s when you’re my favorite. Will we roll around for hours like we used to, enjoying the sunset or whatever else is in our imagination? I hope so.
Just so you know, I never regret a long night we spent together, even the ones that blurred into the next day where I would pretend to be asleep, alone when my parents walked by. It’s only that I was so deliriously happy that I was almost actually delirious, so I just didn’t stop, until I got caught. But even then, when I stopped, I didn’t. Why would I? I was so fucking happy; I know that you’re happy that I was happy. And even if now, you and me have to sneak around and lock the doors and make up endless excuses for one rendezvous, it’s a million percent worth it.
Of course, for each that disapproves of our relationship, there’s another who pities us and knows the sting of denial. If for nothing else, we have to keep going for those people who need our support because none of us can really survive on our own. Really, we should stay together forever for a million other reasons too. Like the fact that you make the world seem much more reasonable, space seem so much more achievable, life seem so much more believable. I’d truly be bored without you.
And there, right there is where I should stop. Hell, that’s where I stopped the first time, but you keep pulling me back, you’re addictive, only not physically, just mentally. It’s plausible that you could call these shakes I get when I’m without you an addiction or maybe a sign of dependency, but so what if it’s “unhealthy” or sickening. You put the spark in my dilated pupils and make me feel like a whole day of school is a quick pain, staccato like pulling a band aid off. And that it doesn’t matter who gave what grade, which coach yelled at me, or if I’m grounded, what is grounded anyway?
I don’t know, I don’t have to know, because I know you so intimately. And knowing you is like knowing some vast universe within myself to which the only key is your bitter, thick saliva and once I’m there, I’m not leaving until they drag me away from you. And once this sentence starts, it’s not ending until someone pries a period out of my cold, dead hands because when I’m with you, I feel just like this sentence, invincible, unstoppable, speeding away like a train with no breaks, and oh, in my head it’s just all going by so fast all of a sudden, I thought I wanted to stop, but I knew I really couldn’t, wouldn’t, should, and every time I look at the clock another three hours has passed and there’s no way to tell and there’s nothing to do but lay back and watch the fan, trying to make it’s blades slow down with my mind, when I’m with you, I know I can do it, even if they can’t see it, and here, it’s still going
I
Feel
It in my soul, just like this never-ending sentence with all it’s commas, just like I’ve been tiptoeing around the whole point of this with every little, unneeded, unimportant, useless, boring, all to vivid for it’s supposed purpose, distant, unrelated, vague adjective. All I really meant was, I miss you.
In the last five years, have you grown? Did you get taller, deeper, bigger? Would it cost more to seek you out now? And how many people have you lulled to sleep in the last five years and two weeks? Were they ever as free as we were? Did they care, like we didn’t? Well, I know you never did, never will. But that doesn’t matter, the specifics don’t matter, because as well as I’ve recorded every little detail, I can’t remember a single one. Accept for the things that everyone tells me, which I believe in a heart beat because I want something to believe; It’s no good if I don’t have stories to tell.
I wonder, what will you taste like when we next meet? Cherry or grape - I used to love grape - or orange or blue or just that plain, sick flavor some people seem to favor. It’s gross, it really is, you know? Maybe, though, you will taste like nothing, and be smooth and slick instead so that all I will taste is remnants of dinner; That’s when you’re my favorite. Will we roll around for hours like we used to, enjoying the sunset or whatever else is in our imagination? I hope so.
Just so you know, I never regret a long night we spent together, even the ones that blurred into the next day where I would pretend to be asleep, alone when my parents walked by. It’s only that I was so deliriously happy that I was almost actually delirious, so I just didn’t stop, until I got caught. But even then, when I stopped, I didn’t. Why would I? I was so fucking happy; I know that you’re happy that I was happy. And even if now, you and me have to sneak around and lock the doors and make up endless excuses for one rendezvous, it’s a million percent worth it.
Of course, for each that disapproves of our relationship, there’s another who pities us and knows the sting of denial. If for nothing else, we have to keep going for those people who need our support because none of us can really survive on our own. Really, we should stay together forever for a million other reasons too. Like the fact that you make the world seem much more reasonable, space seem so much more achievable, life seem so much more believable. I’d truly be bored without you.
And there, right there is where I should stop. Hell, that’s where I stopped the first time, but you keep pulling me back, you’re addictive, only not physically, just mentally. It’s plausible that you could call these shakes I get when I’m without you an addiction or maybe a sign of dependency, but so what if it’s “unhealthy” or sickening. You put the spark in my dilated pupils and make me feel like a whole day of school is a quick pain, staccato like pulling a band aid off. And that it doesn’t matter who gave what grade, which coach yelled at me, or if I’m grounded, what is grounded anyway?
I don’t know, I don’t have to know, because I know you so intimately. And knowing you is like knowing some vast universe within myself to which the only key is your bitter, thick saliva and once I’m there, I’m not leaving until they drag me away from you. And once this sentence starts, it’s not ending until someone pries a period out of my cold, dead hands because when I’m with you, I feel just like this sentence, invincible, unstoppable, speeding away like a train with no breaks, and oh, in my head it’s just all going by so fast all of a sudden, I thought I wanted to stop, but I knew I really couldn’t, wouldn’t, should, and every time I look at the clock another three hours has passed and there’s no way to tell and there’s nothing to do but lay back and watch the fan, trying to make it’s blades slow down with my mind, when I’m with you, I know I can do it, even if they can’t see it, and here, it’s still going
I
Feel
It in my soul, just like this never-ending sentence with all it’s commas, just like I’ve been tiptoeing around the whole point of this with every little, unneeded, unimportant, useless, boring, all to vivid for it’s supposed purpose, distant, unrelated, vague adjective. All I really meant was, I miss you.