Play: Portrait of Tracy by Jaco Pastorius
i think about it now,
the fact that you've might've finally moved on to talking to someone else and enjoying that,
it's not me not wanting that, because i'd be a hypocrite if i did the same,
but wow.. it just feels weird.
i remind myself of the reasons i left when i think like this but they still hit me the same way,
every time that it reoccurs to me.
i'm just negligent to accept the fact that things will inevitably change, especially between us.
in our own lives..
which you spent a lot of time in mine,
a ton of it.
little things like being outside past 10 and seeing the purpley hint within the blue ambient sky after work,
reminds me of being snuggled with you on the bed while feeling at ease, finally at the ending of the through-week. tired but finally able to stay put, under someone who gives you love reminiscent of that of your mothers'.
feeling your skin, even seeing it, a nice lightish tan.
but this.. is something different,
a different feeling.
something i had control over, something i felt a little more inside towards.
fuck.
and when your mother would occasionally come in and just try to talk to us briefly, really made this whole thing feel as if i had a second home.
i guess now that's gone. at least for now.
and i miss it a ton.
i miss having somewhere else to go to, to escape for a while.
like a stray cat,
perhaps all of this is my home,
but some more company is nice.
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ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴀ
Poetrythe Weakness No One Shows, the Aggravation that is Withheld. Is All Soon to be Pushed into the Light. Join Us, While We Embark on a New Age. a new age of Vulnerableness. this is an ongoing book/poem, so it will be updated every so often. you ca...
