I wish you weren't so straight-laced.
I wish
You would come with me
To a quiet roof-top
And we'd get blind-drunk.
Drunk enough that you'd forget that you didn't know what to say,
And could be content not saying anything.
Drunk enough that I'd forget that I'm not supposed to care about you,
And could tell you everything.
Under those lacklustre stars I could tell you
All the ways you were perfect
All over again
Unashamed.
Under those empty stars,
For just a little while, we could forget about her.
No, no, don't think of her now.
For this night, she could be erased by the spirits and bad decisions.
Under those stars, I'd stop worrying
About all I couldn't say
Since I began my careful mourning.
"It's not classy to cry over someone for more than a season."
If that's the truth, count me classless.
Under those stars, I could forget that I'm nothing special,
That this story has been told a million times before.
I might stop comparing it to everyone else's hardship and hope
If only for one night.
Under the stars, I'd stop halting,
Carefully choosing words based on what you wanted to hear
And filtering anything I thought was "too personal."
"How are you," you'd say, and without a moment's pause I would say
"I missed you every minute since we last spoke."
"I worried about you so much after you didn't respond; I prepared your eulogy."
"I spent the afternoon considering all the ways in which you are more perfect than I could ever be."
And, in the haze, you would nod and say, "how thoughtful."
Not
"I don't think about you except when I've nothing else to do,"
"I was relieved when you didn't respond because I was done pretending for the day,"
"I spent all afternoon wondering how someone so flawed could ever consider themselves worth my while."
Which I accept is the usual truth.
But we could pretend to ourselves a little, eh?
High on this starlit night.
Under those stars, I could propose to you
All the little things we were supposed to do,
Back when you were a daydream
I was determined to hold close.
Picnics and waltzes and petty fights,
Long, chilly walks on endless nights.
Every fantasy keeping me alive with
Its promise of salvation.
And maybe you would say
"That does sound pretty neat."
Under those stars I could relate to you
Every little detail that I could never forget.
How you walked quickly just 'so'
How your teeth are strange and incongruous with the rest of your face
(And I adore them.)
How you have a family with a sister and brother and dog and cat
And it just sounds like a fairy tale, you know?
I could, given a minute, name all of the times you ever looked at me
And all of the times I looked at you.
Under those stars I could recount to you
The story of my growing adoration,
How I didn't fall in love at first sight,
But rather learned that what I felt was called love.
"So this is how it feels," I said to myself,
Reflecting back on a year of you.
How I never stopped thinking of you
Even in the face of much more convenient prospects.
How I questioned it all until I could prove it with fact:
That this can only be love.
"You are missing from me."
"I always come back to this."
"I only know that I want you to be happy."
How all these words crowded my throat when I spoke with you,
So tightly I could hardly manage hello.
Under those stars, I could finally say,
"I love you,"
And you could say,
"I know now."
And in that moment I could finally put my heart to rest.
But, you are too straight-laced.
You won't ever be blind-drunk with me under these stars.
So I will pretend I am drunk,
By myself,
Here on this lonely rooftop,
And tell the twinkling specks about you
And wish.
