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wanted.

i think the thing
that is most impressive,
is that someone who knew me
for only four hours,
knew me better than you
and you had six years
of mornings and nights.
maybe he’s just another
goodbye to make me cry,
but i’ll be damned
if he didn’t kiss me
like he meant it.
and maybe he was lying,
just to get me naked,
but he’d already stripped me
with my clothes on.
funny how words can
take the clothes off your soul.
he didn’t even know
how he was holding me together,
like you never fucking did.
just met, yet,
he told me i was funny.
and fucking adorable.
he wanted to touch me.
how fucking cool is that?
he.
wanted.
to.
touch.
me.
he knew i wanted him to kiss me,
i didn’t have to fucking beg.
or ask.
or cry for it.
he said he saw it in my face,
wonder then –
how many times did you see that look
and just turn the fuck away?
everytime i find myself missing you,
and hurting and aching,
i just remind myself of that last time,
standing in the fucking driveway,
begging you to fucking kiss me.
and you didn’t.
that was the last time you didn’t,
but it wasn’t the first time.
so fuck you.
i hope he’s good guy,
but even if he turns out
to be a complete fucking dick,
he made me feel wanted.
and that’s all i wanted.
it’s all i’ve ever wanted.

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nostalgia.

I let myself miss you tonight;
for a fleeting moment I remembered
the you that you were
when I loved you the most,
not this being that you became;
I catch glimpses of you,
sometimes while I’m out.
I can see you in the bookstore,
on the couch, on a side street;
it’s just a memory,
you aren’t really there;
just a vague nostalgia
that leaves me with the taste of history.
I hope you are well,
be well, stay well,
wherever you are,
in whatever you do.
I hope that once in a while,
you might think of me too,
just for a fleeting moment,
I hope you miss me,
just like I miss you.