bedroomprince, i did your post piece in calgary. the camera died and it wasn't recorded... i thought the best place to give you the text was right here. we didn't do anything jazzy so the text stands alone. you'll see that i used your posts as inspiration rather than directly as the text... cool?
xo michelle
here it is (i'll have to post in a couple of comments...):
1. Dearest Would-be Lover,
2. Dear Would-be Love,
1. Do you remember me? Remember Europe? Remember when you never kissed me?
2. The distance makes my heart ache.
1. Remember when you had a million opportunities but never did it? God, you were so beautiful.
2. The fact that you’re wrapped up together at every occasion makes my heart ache.
1. Yesterday, in my hometown, I was walking down the street and I saw a man that who looked like you. He had dark hair and crystal blue eyes and he wore glasses the way you wore glasses-the way grad students wear glasses.
2. Yesterday I saw a picture of us. I thought I’d thrown it away or put it in a box or put it out of my mind. In the picture you’re arms are around me and we’re bent double over laughing. The camera caught a moment of intimacy I’ve long put away.
1. I met you once. Once upon a time. Once. For five minutes. For five hours. For an evening. Once. Once in a famous European city with no name. Once in a squalid hole unfit for human habitation.
2. When I think about you now I imagine your wedding. I imagine you walking wearing a beautiful suit that perfectly fits your beautiful body. I imagine you waiting at the alter. Friends and family looking holding back the tears that will no doubt pour as those doors open and reveal…
1. In Calgary. In Toronto. In Istanbul. It doesn’t matter. None of it ever matters. Desire takes us as it takes us. People remind me of you around every corner. His hands, his arms, his chest, his light step, his indifference.
2. I imagine the music swelling and the doors opening and there he is. There he is beautiful and smiling and wearing that colour that makes his eyes shine. He walks down the aisle towards you and there is no one else there. He is propelled forward by love.
1. I imagine us, naked and sweating in every corner of this city and in every corner of that other city. I imagine the weight of your hand on my chest pushing me against a wall or down on the bed. I imagine the heat of your breath on my neck, each breath stiffening me until I feel like I am about to burst. I imagine tasting myself on your lips. I imagine every single second trapped in your arms.
2. Late at night, when I’ve had too many glasses of wine and have spent too many weeks fucking people who will never matter as much as you, I imagine it’s me walking down that aisle to you. How many people have to suck my cock before I don’t love you anymore? How much cum do I have to swallow before you realize you miss me?
1. Part of me wonders how long before that sexual desire turns into something more. How long before we’re no longer questioning sex, but love? How many times would I have to suck your cock before I fell in love with you? How much cum would do you have to swallow before you call me in the afternoon or before we hold hands at the zoo?
2. And the fact that you don’t want me doesn’t make me want you any less. My brain doesn’t cease to fantasize about you simply because you show no interest in me.
1. And the fact that you don’t want me doesn’t make me want you any less. My brain doesn’t cease to fantasize about you simply because you show no interest in me.
2. I am so terrified that I will never love anyone they way I loved you. The way I love you. I am so terrified that I will never feel the desire for someone else that I feel for you. I am so terrified that I will never ever touch someone they way I touched you.
1. The scariest thing is how despite the time and distance between is. Despite the fact that your hand only once grazed mine… Despite all that there’s some one out there I could have real feelings for and I wonder if I’d throw away all that possibility if you asked me to come with you. If you asked me to come with you and fuck you in every corner of every city.
1&2. Is this the line where desire and love meet? Where they blur?
1. I want to touch them all. I want to fuck them all.
2. I want to be able to love someone else.
1. You should’ve kissed me.
2. I want you stop to stop calling me.
1. You should’ve run your tongue down my spine.
2. I never want you to stop calling me.
1. You should’ve lost your breath as you slipped inside me.
2. I should tell him. Maybe I should call him and tell him that we’re planning a romantic weekend together. Maybe I should tell him that you’ve invited me to Berlin. Maybe I should tell him that I’m your muse.
1. You should’ve left me wanting nothing more.
2. But I know you say all those things to him too. And half the time you mean them.
2 comments:
bedroomprince, i did your post piece in calgary.
the camera died and it wasn't recorded... i thought the best place to give you the text was right here. we didn't do anything jazzy so the text stands alone. you'll see that i used your posts as inspiration rather than directly as the text... cool?
xo michelle
here it is (i'll have to post in a couple of comments...):
1. Dearest Would-be Lover,
2. Dear Would-be Love,
1. Do you remember me? Remember Europe? Remember when you never kissed me?
2. The distance makes my heart ache.
1. Remember when you had a million opportunities but never did it? God, you were so beautiful.
2. The fact that you’re wrapped up together at every occasion makes my heart ache.
1. Yesterday, in my hometown, I was walking down the street and I saw a man that who looked like you. He had dark hair and crystal blue eyes and he wore glasses the way you wore glasses-the way grad students wear glasses.
2. Yesterday I saw a picture of us. I thought I’d thrown it away or put it in a box or put it out of my mind. In the picture you’re arms are around me and we’re bent double over laughing. The camera caught a moment of intimacy I’ve long put away.
1. I met you once. Once upon a time. Once. For five minutes. For five hours. For an evening. Once. Once in a famous European city with no name. Once in a squalid hole unfit for human habitation.
2. When I think about you now I imagine your wedding. I imagine you walking wearing a beautiful suit that perfectly fits your beautiful body. I imagine you waiting at the alter. Friends and family looking holding back the tears that will no doubt pour as those doors open and reveal…
1. In Calgary. In Toronto. In Istanbul. It doesn’t matter. None of it ever matters. Desire takes us as it takes us. People remind me of you around every corner. His hands, his arms, his chest, his light step, his indifference.
2. I imagine the music swelling and the doors opening and there he is. There he is beautiful and smiling and wearing that colour that makes his eyes shine. He walks down the aisle towards you and there is no one else there. He is propelled forward by love.
1. I imagine us, naked and sweating in every corner of this city and in every corner of that other city. I imagine the weight of your hand on my chest pushing me against a wall or down on the bed. I imagine the heat of your breath on my neck, each breath stiffening me until I feel like I am about to burst. I imagine tasting myself on your lips. I imagine every single second trapped in your arms.
2. Late at night, when I’ve had too many glasses of wine and have spent too many weeks fucking people who will never matter as much as you, I imagine it’s me walking down that aisle to you. How many people have to suck my cock before I don’t love you anymore? How much cum do I have to swallow before you realize you miss me?
1. Part of me wonders how long before that sexual desire turns into something more. How long before we’re no longer questioning sex, but love? How many times would I have to suck your cock before I fell in love with you? How much cum would do you have to swallow before you call me in the afternoon or before we hold hands at the zoo?
2. I cried.
1. I got an erection.
2. It was humiliating.
1. It was humiliating.
2. And the fact that you don’t want me doesn’t make me want you any less. My brain doesn’t cease to fantasize about you simply because you show no interest in me.
1. And the fact that you don’t want me doesn’t make me want you any less. My brain doesn’t cease to fantasize about you simply because you show no interest in me.
2. I am so terrified that I will never love anyone they way I loved you. The way I love you. I am so terrified that I will never feel the desire for someone else that I feel for you. I am so terrified that I will never ever touch someone they way I touched you.
1. The scariest thing is how despite the time and distance between is. Despite the fact that your hand only once grazed mine… Despite all that there’s some one out there I could have real feelings for and I wonder if I’d throw away all that possibility if you asked me to come with you. If you asked me to come with you and fuck you in every corner of every city.
1&2. Is this the line where desire and love meet? Where they blur?
1. I want to touch them all. I want to fuck them all.
2. I want to be able to love someone else.
1. You should’ve kissed me.
2. I want you stop to stop calling me.
1. You should’ve run your tongue down my spine.
2. I never want you to stop calling me.
1. You should’ve lost your breath as you slipped inside me.
2. I should tell him. Maybe I should call him and tell him that we’re planning a romantic weekend together. Maybe I should tell him that you’ve invited me to Berlin. Maybe I should tell him that I’m your muse.
1. You should’ve left me wanting nothing more.
2. But I know you say all those things to him too. And half the time you mean them.
1. I bet you’re fantastic in bed.
2. I bet you love him.
1. Should-be lover, we should’ve been…
2. Should-be lover, we once were…
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