Paper Tiger

I took it for a kiss, but it couldn’t have been, could it?

I see now what it is, we were just biting the same bullet. You called it in the air, it landed on it’s edge. When the crowd gathers around, you turn tail, I turn heads.

Shaving down the puzzle piece, tryin’ to make a clean fit. Think what is lovely, leave before the rain hits. It’s a heartbreaker for starters, as you age not too much changes. Practice doesn’t make perfect, just makes the game more dangerous.  

Challenging like every last stalemate. Deal with it. No mission ends. Precision, lack of friends. Happily recommend nothing to no one ever. 

Truthfully, I was blind to the deep end, until that piece of us died that weekend. 

Then it flashed forward, but I asked for it. Rip it out, I gulped it up. I’ll have to die twice, no Novocaine. I am a cheap laugh, but I get the joke. I am a brief flash, the abstract. 

#FirstWorldSingleNerdProblems

getting teary-eyed..okay, crying at the end of Torchwood (UK series, duh) series two when Owen tells Tosh he’s sorry that he never saw her before (like that) and they should’ve gone on that date, AS THEY ARE BOTH DYING!

oh, yeah that, while there is one kitten burrowed under your duvet, and another is spooning under your chin. 

At 5 o’clock. On a saturday. 

Don’t bang that door down too fast guys, I’ll have to beat ya off..with a stick.

Brb

Punching Jax Teller in the face.

SOA, oh the tears

Has made me cry a little every episode of season three. I need to discus s this with someone. Also, I need someone to hold me.

on: loving, leaving, friendships and that sort of messy stuff

i’m that kind of person that will wait to speak to you, instead of text you certain things. for instance i always wanted to tell you, “you’re going to hurt me. i’m going to hurt you. that is just how life works, if we’re lucky, we wont hurt each other too bad. if we’re lucky, we’ll look past it.”

when something feels like an end, we tend to think about the things we were saving to speak, instead of text. we tend to think of the laugh that would follow, or the humbled, murmured response. i’ve always believed that people come into your life when they are supposed to. sometimes they come, and go, and come back several times, until they decide to stay, make a cup of coffee and light a cigarette next to you. sometimes we ignore each other because we don’t have the words to make it better. we look at our respective mobiles. notice how their name slowly descends the rank from most recent text, call, voicemail.

sometimes if we’re lucky, we end up back where we once were. safe, comfortable, happy, vulnerable, unashamed, uninhibited. there are many times in life where we don’t end up back there. lovers and friends weave back and forth in our lives, each city, each road-trip, each time we leave our homes. strangers become friends. friends become lovers. 

 they all will go, at some point. we die. we get sick. we get married. we move to another country. no, it never is easy when you feel like you’ve “lost” someone. you rack your brain for the reason, what did “i” do?  maybe its better, some say. maybe it shows us that for that one moment in time, we were worth loving. at one moment we meant something to someone, and in that moment there was no pain, there were no questions.

i sit here with Bukowski, looking at a valentine i made, too early. do i send it? do i dispose it? dismantle? none of the above. i’ll keep it. and if you ever come back, you’ll receive it. it reminds me of our first interaction. it reminds me of when you made me laugh, and it’s just a spoon.