Microcosms

Remembering Sunday

Something about being in the same car as you made me sad. It hadn't been that way for so long, every time you got close to me I wanted you to kiss me. I wanted you to kiss me so hard my eyes would have no choice but to close and my hands would have to hold on to your shoulders and my mouth would have to open and let your lips and tongue dance quickly, but gracefully with mine. But you didn't kiss me and I didn't kiss you. We just sat in the car joking about stupid things just to fill the air of desire that floated so thickly around us. So I was sad because it wasn't the same car we had once been in and so it held none of our old memories; just your new ones with her. Really, I wanted to cry, because I knew that moment was not memorable to you, but it was to me. I was sad because, there, parked in front of the pizza place and joking about how I couldn't not slam the car door, I realized I loved you and that you wanted me, and those two things would never be the same. I guess you could say that was what was making me sad while being in the same car as you. It was just us two and sometimes I gripped my own thigh just like you used to, maybe it was force of habit or maybe I was just hoping you'd imitate me. I'm not sure, I just knew you'd never look at me with the same smiling eyes you used to again. I cursed you for being so charming because loving you still didn't make me feel like I'd bought a plane ticket, prepared for the trip for months and then upon arriving at the airport being told my flight was canceled. It made me feel like I'd just been told I could travel anywhere in the world for free. That's what it felt like, free. Except, there, in that car with just us two I had to restrain the freedom of loving you with the knowledge that you wanted me and those two things would never be the same.