#41014 Love's Sophomore, aka Don't Fck It Up

After watching HIM walk, everything else seems sub par.
Everything else is just everything else.
He will either be my greatest love or my greatest ruin.
He who I will make legend.
He who I will make mine.
I just want to drink wine and eat decadent foods with him and fuck and drink and eat some more until we are both completely spent.
He makes me believe again.
      makes me think my happily ever after could be a tangible thing
      makes me want to spit blessings instead of heart broken curses on the page.

Am I to be the fool again?
If I am to be love's fool, at least let me be love's sophomore.
At least let me be old enough to know better and young enough not want to.
To know better than to listen to or believe any and everything I'm listening to and believing,
but I'm still here
Ignorance is bliss & I've already said how overjoyed I am to be HIS fool.

I may have said the wrong thing to the right man,

Again.
I doubt too often,
long for too much,
drink too much,
spend too much,
and love much too easily
with too little to show for it.
& now I may make another bad decision instead of spending another night alone.

May make another poor life choice for the sake of warm arms around me.
May claim another empty notch on my lipstick case to preserve pretend pride.
Taste the tongue of another in the name of licking my own wounds

Said the wrong thing again.
Now I may be sleeping solo again,
Not for lack of choice,
But because I may have made the wrong one again.
Let the wrong one affect me and fck up with the right one,
Again.
Said the wrong thing to the right man, again.
Lacked patience and been hasty.
I've heard that doing the same shit over and over and expecting different results is the definition of Insanity.
I've read this script before with different cast members, more than a few times...
Doesn't that make me batshit crazy or just a writer in desperate need of a rewrite?

#030614 No (Good) Reason to Refuse a Lover

The 1st twelve hours after refusing a lover are the hardest
whatever your reasons were seem ridiculous,
                                             seem futile...
and you worry if he'll call again
       you worry if you'll hear from him again
when you can still smell him on your skin,
even after you've bathed,
when the longing is so ripe you are sodden with lust
when touching yourself does not satisfy
no matter how many times you writhe in your bed alone
THOSE are the worst hours

#022714 In My Cups

Who's gonna take you home if it isn't me?

I was too drunk to still be out.  Too drunk to interact with strangers. He didn't feel like a stranger since we'd been talking so closely for so long. For him to hold my attention for as long as he had, he must have been able to hold his own in conversation. He certainly was pretty, but I wasn't sure if this was someone I wanted to wake up next to. There was too much 80 proof in my veins and too many nights of sleeping alone weighing on my mind... I really only wanted to feel someone's feet next to mine at the end of the bed.  Wanted to nuzzle into someone's who wanted to hold me's arms. I couldn't tell if the man I was sloppily flirting with was that person or not, but he would do. Right?

#021714: The Other Side of the Tracks

It's midnight Saturday night on the Brooklyn bound A train platform at West 4th Street. I'd just left a birthday dinner for a friend. It's cold as a witch's tit in a cast iron bra outside and being on the platform only offers brief solace from the bitter, biting cold. As I walked up to a spot I deemed safe enough to wait for the train to take me to my second job, I saw him. Lanky and passably attractive at a distance, but up close, not so much.

"I was telling him about our amazing date."  The woman on the uptown bound platform yelled to him across the tracks. First, he chuckled, then it seemed that somehow, her discussing their date with a stranger invited a pantomimed conversation with him.  Initially, his performance led me to believe that he was autistic.  The whole exchange felt like a missing scene from The Other Sister.