I deliberately ran away from a moment I've been regretting ever since I never let it happen. I try to hide from it, deny it. You were my brother, a big brother like I've never had. I'm gonna write this play for you. My confidante. I'd never been so co-dependent. I've never felt like crying just by sitting beside a person in a diner, you sitting next to me, a mutual best friend across from us talking about her boyfriend, us laughing all together and me scarfing down french fries just to squash my impulses.
You make me heartbroken with an exhale, a joke and the look i suck out of you when you say certain things to my eyes. Your eyes are too fucking expressive. I'm reading a million different things from that look and I can't fucking ask you about it!
I've tried to recreate that moment at my smoking window, but without you. Every morning until you found her, I would curl up on the sill, pull up the window, swing the curtain around me, play that song and take a drag of my Dunhill. Two times I did this, the sky was blue. Blue and I cried. I cried. Alone, at 7am and it felt like I was in physical pain. Wishing you were crying out for me, too.
If you had feelings for me, I know she's helped you squash them and I did, too, and I hate that I did that. I'm so sorry if I hurt you. I know I'm fucked up. I know I did some really fucked up shit but, I'm really in love with you. I know this is love, this is in love. I fucking want you.
So I'm in love with a man I shouldn't be thinking about. It's the kind of circumstance no one is rooting for. A love not likely to ever bear fruit. If it were, we wouldn't be in such circumstances.
I can't say it out loud, I'd be too ashamed. And I know I made the ethical choice by squashing it. But, if I could go back. If I could go back to that baseball field where you'd held me, and I didn't talk with stories I knew would push us apart, away from this new feeling, this last time you'd held me in a way that felt so different from every type of contact I'd experienced with you- or anyone for that matter.
If I could take back the cowardice and cunning and just let you. Let you finish holding me, touching my stomach, my waist, my ribs, my neck, my ears the way you did... Maybe you would've ran your fingers through my hair and kissed me again like you had that one time before, when I'd asked what we were doing and you just said it felt right. I should've told you I love you right then.
You make me heartbroken with an exhale, a joke and the look i suck out of you when you say certain things to my eyes. Your eyes are too fucking expressive. I'm reading a million different things from that look and I can't fucking ask you about it!
I've tried to recreate that moment at my smoking window, but without you. Every morning until you found her, I would curl up on the sill, pull up the window, swing the curtain around me, play that song and take a drag of my Dunhill. Two times I did this, the sky was blue. Blue and I cried. I cried. Alone, at 7am and it felt like I was in physical pain. Wishing you were crying out for me, too.
If you had feelings for me, I know she's helped you squash them and I did, too, and I hate that I did that. I'm so sorry if I hurt you. I know I'm fucked up. I know I did some really fucked up shit but, I'm really in love with you. I know this is love, this is in love. I fucking want you.
So I'm in love with a man I shouldn't be thinking about. It's the kind of circumstance no one is rooting for. A love not likely to ever bear fruit. If it were, we wouldn't be in such circumstances.
I can't say it out loud, I'd be too ashamed. And I know I made the ethical choice by squashing it. But, if I could go back. If I could go back to that baseball field where you'd held me, and I didn't talk with stories I knew would push us apart, away from this new feeling, this last time you'd held me in a way that felt so different from every type of contact I'd experienced with you- or anyone for that matter.
If I could take back the cowardice and cunning and just let you. Let you finish holding me, touching my stomach, my waist, my ribs, my neck, my ears the way you did... Maybe you would've ran your fingers through my hair and kissed me again like you had that one time before, when I'd asked what we were doing and you just said it felt right. I should've told you I love you right then.
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