PUBLIC PERVERT

Slipping under the covers with you with our legs stretched out peeking over the blanket feels a little guilty - is it the fact that your blankets do not fit? Or is it because that time never originally belonged to us? I would have wished for us to stay separate, but it’s natural that legs and feelings eventually intertwine under the sheets and I would not have wished for anything else. Your lungs spit fire and under all that heat, everything melts away into singularity. Years pass under that blanket and soon it’s time to go home.

It doesn’t matter whose car that I’m in the front seat of, listening to whatever that plays because I’m waiting for someone or something to replace a certain memory along a certain road. My head tilts to the left and leans against the window and all I hear is the heavy air of silence and the pattering of rain. Your hand rests on my thigh and further up but sometimes, it feels like my body is not mine anymore.

The idea of virginity, purity and possession has been snapping at my heels and it’s time to run faster and away.

Today the sun shone straight in my face as I was crossing the road and for a moment, I couldn’t see. It’s these unseemly moments which make no sense individually that confuse me; but when put together with the equations of fate, love, and memory, it all fits together. Makes sense. Funny how longing and nostalgia drops in like an ex-boyfriend on a hot Sunday afternoon by a busy road. Amidst the rays and squinting, you’ll realize it’s nothingness after all.

When I stand on top of the world with you, I’m sorry it’s a problem that we see two different sights. When we look out of the same window together, I’m sorry it’s a problem that our breaths fog up differently. Ironically (or not?) as I tried stepping into your lightness, you had a problem with this small blotch entering.

But that’s why we’re perfect. Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.

You always say all these: that you don’t want or need someone to love, or for someone to love you back, because maybe the love you find in a relationship is overrated, destructive, and selfish. It is. But that of which I can love is beneath the pools of our rotting emotions. Swim through that and we’ll find each other at the ends. That of which I can love is down the tumbling hole of truth and lies. Kiss me and we’ll find that reality really doesn’t matter.

How can I love the twinkle in your eyes without loving your ability to lie? In the cold of the winter, I always landed in your arms as I ran down the stairs. Whether you meant it or not, I’m sure we were playing the same game.

“You’re asking me? You’re asking me to write your love story? Am I your only friend who writes? No. No, please let me off. I am driven to the point of obsession when it comes to you. With the both of you. I linger in the past and wonder about our future. I spend my waking hours trying not to think of you when I see our smallest things and you appear right behind my lids when it’s dark. Let me spend the new year not living in the shadow of your uncertainty, you coward. Let me spend the new year living free of your shackles of doubt. So tell me, tell me now: were you… was I ever a choice or was it because I was an easy option? Give me my closure and then fuck off forever from my life.”
“I hope you stop living across me.”

“You’re asking me? You’re asking me to write your love story? Am I your only friend who writes? No. No, please let me off. I am driven to the point of obsession when it comes to you. With the both of you. I linger in the past and wonder about our future. I spend my waking hours trying not to think of you when I see our smallest things and you appear right behind my lids when it’s dark. Let me spend the new year not living in the shadow of your uncertainty, you coward. Let me spend the new year living free of your shackles of doubt. So tell me, tell me now: were you… was I ever a choice or was it because I was an easy option? Give me my closure and then fuck off forever from my life.”

“I hope you stop living across me.”

It was just so easy to fall into each other’s arms and into each other’s mouths and maybe into love again. I was not sorry for all the anger that flowed into you because I could finally feel yours. Perhaps in stranger ways that we did not expect, we were really perfect. And because maybe you deserve it. You deserve all of it. You made it so easy so fall back in to the darker pits of love in hell.

When you leave me alone with the devices and tricks of love, you’re asking for it. Starting from the tips of my fingers, flesh rots slowly and then very gradually spreading upwards till I can’t bear to touch you any more because it hurts. It starts melting from inside my face, degenerating till you can see it from the outside. I really want to pull my disfigured face apart for you; for you to see for yourself that it really exists deep down underneath the layers of my fat and muscle and tendons and sinews. I really want to pick apart at the flesh to show you proof that it saturates every pore and fibre of my being.

There is never a lonely day in paradise.