I slept with you.
I remember sleeping in your bed for the first time,
and I remember the smell of your cotton sheets from the second and last time.
Awkwardly secure, the CD player beeps on pause the entire night.
You taught me to play the guitar, and I was always leaving my stuff over there-
a neurotic accident that just kept happening.
My counselor told me it was puppy love, the way I followed you around through life.
How I still held you with glowing eyes after you broke my heart.
"Why not?" I ask myself.
This revolving question that I think about during long nights I don't spend sleeping.
I take time every now and then to try and break my heart on you again-
something to add to the playlist of daydreams that use themeselves on destructive reminiscence.
The first time, you slept next to me.
The last time, you gave your bed to me.
And from now on, I'm sleeping alone.
 RainbowJimmy · Tue Aug 07, 2007 @ 04:50pm · 1 Comments |
