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I think about you all the time
too much
well, mostly, I think about how almost I had you - how fucked my ...
it doesn't matter does it.
you're not going to go "egads! I wonder what the fuck Kristen is up to. I'd love to slap that ass and wiggle that mind. let's text her."
a skinny squirrel runs across the cracked driveway you used to come up every weekend - parking in the space I made for you.
and god how effusive I was.
especially after I became scared
it's doesn't matter
you'll be flattered to know that I attribute all knowing - all wisdom to you - thinking you saw through me from the almost beginning and then back pedaled until you found a new bike/gal
like a fish needs a bicycle
the bed we fucked in
well, we fucked in both of them, but the main one
I go into to cauterize myself from time to time
to tell myself it's so tawdry without a headboard - and to tell myself
I was just
a replaceable time waster
a shitter
and I'm sure you have hundreds of clever femmes in your roster - in your bag - in your quiver, yet I was one of them for a while.
I wonder what you'll think of me with more time - after the pressing psycho vibe has settled - I truly have no idea.
you would have been a great
you were a cipher to me
I can guess.
let me guess again
and again
you'll think back on me one day - maybe a space cowboy song gets covered in a movie you're watching - and the fleeting glimpse would be let's see what might it be... what could it be, "Kristen, she was weird. I bet she's dead now."
god I'm harsh.
I try to get my hopes down so I won't dash my head against your walls.
what might you think of me positively. what's a possibility that's not shitty cruel? because it matters so much eh.
so let's rewind, space cowboy is playing on the soundtrack, you think back,
"kristen, it was nice to see new places..."
and you were great. what might I think of you with more time time time and sediment?
"noel, I bet he's visiting his kid in college in New York after finishing a week-long commercial shoot and is looking up some semi-famous former classmate and making it all smoother and I bet he knows where the best cheeseburgers are. Or maybe he's playing catch in Central Park or walking in some new old growth forest"
who the fuck knows.
I just know that now, now now, I can't believe that I'm seven months from you dumping me for asking you to choose me. and still looking at the world from your eyes. thinking about your Athens about it getting more crowded - wondering if you watch weekend jeaapordy - wondering if you've planned on taking stuff to your kids - wondering if you ever found someone new to amuse you. wondering of course
of course of course
if it had ever been possible for you to say, 'so, let's talk about where we're going...' would it be possible for me.
would it have mattered
I almost got trash can fries to kill the hellish hours as the monotonous torture days pass when numbing doesn't help anymore
but I decided maybe I'll just get the fat jab
and fuck it
not that I'm going to go shopping for your replacement.
honestly, I don't really think there could be a replacement.
and hopefully I'll change my mind, but for now
you'll be my beached head.
it's my life.
I can self-destructively ruminate all day long about you.
and what I lost
and what I did and what the reality was versus
the shine
and one day
it will fade
it has to
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