May 25, 2009 monday - 00:26

this is the way you smell after you shower.
this is the awkward way you try to lead the conversation on.
this is the red glow of your dashboard in the dark.
this is the way your shirt falls over your body - neither too tight nor too loose, just right.
this is the tension in your muscles as you reach across of me.

this is the mixture of concern and disdain you have for me, and that i have for you. both caring too much, and too little, and in all the wrong ways.

time passes. a day, a week, half a year, five years. yet the old heartache is still there, and the same songs bring the same pain. i am back in the kitchen of my old hall, reading someone else's notes for an exam i am so sure i will screw up, microwaving frozen dinners at 3 in the morning. the green plastic chairs and the melamine table. and heartache so pure and beautiful i thought i would shatter.

but in time, not all things will last the way this has.

prefix | suffix

diaryland | archive | newest entry | profile