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With the hush of my lips I wholly confound the skeptic

July 19, 2012

Nine months ago you held my hand, pressed your lips to mine, reminded me I have feelings, that I’m real-here-alive-breathing-all powerful-dashed in your presence.

And I’ve been frantically running ever since. Because you are unavailable. Like you’re busy, too busy, a sign that says “out to lunch”. Like an apartment I want, a condo-fully furnished, being rented for the summer.

I ran seven hours upstate just to get away and figure out what I was doing.

And I knew (I knew)I didn’t want and couldn’t take what you were offering.

My nephew woke up in the middle of the night as I slept in his room and I was so tired (so tired-so tired) I had hoped he wouldn’t stir, but the minute he did I hopped up out of bed, scooped him out of his crib, carried him over to the rocker. And there I sat with him, trying to soothe the baby back to sleep, staring out the window at the approaching dawn.

And I realized: I want this.

A home. Children. Someone to love me, forever.

For a moment, I wanted that someone to be you.

But it’s not. It won’t be.

I like you so much I’m considering fucking other people to get rid of it. I like you so much it can’t be real. I like you so much but all you did was hold my hand and put your lips to mine and kiss my temples, twice. I like you so much but all you did was take me to some tiny, out of the way coffee-shop where you knew no one would see us. I like you so much but I haven’t heard your voice in months and right now I should be getting ready for work (I’m late I’m late I’m late again), getting ready to be a normal human being who gets things done, but instead I’m sitting here writing this and it’s not that good and it doesn’t even matter anymore.

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