you. i just want you.
the boy i see in profile when you don't know that i'm watching...
the shape of your hands, the veins in your arms...
don't you remember when you just had to have me? all those nights that i'd leave your bed just long enough to work, and i'd rush back...and we'd break only for bad fast food when we couldn't go anymore.
i just want to undo your collar, slowly, purposefully...
run my nails across the back of your neck...
don't you remember all those nights when we'd yank the sheets off the bed? when we'd get ourselves turned around sideways and my head would fall backwards? when you took your time with me?
i want to write a play about the *real* sex lives of the committed. how you think that a hot night out leads to hot sex...but it really leads to a few mumbled excuses and listening to the other one snore. i take it back - that is not a play anyone wants to see. we can all live it anytime we want. all we have to do is fuck around and get all settled.
please look at me and tell me honestly how you can be this...how you can shrug it off and smile that smile that says, "please love me anyway?" because you know that i will, but honey, i'm seriously running out of patience. i am about two seconds away from screaming "just fucking FIX it" over and over again...
and i hear you put on the pot of coffee...so you can journal. goddamn it. i simply cannot win. i keep thinking that i should have known about this. i should have known that sex for you was 99% mental, and didn't actually require touching. i should have known that you'd eventually go back to your stick-in-the-mud roots. i should have, yes...but baby...once we had this amazing heat. we did...i remember it. and so how do you expect me to believe that you can't when i remember a time when we DID?
you have so many reasons why you can't...my passion scares you. you don't like seduction, it feels too much like manipulation. too tired. no energy. not feeling sexual. stressed out. and you know what? for a while, i'd buy any of these. i have, haven't i? but it's going on a year that we've been struggling. think about it: when's the last time we had sex on a weekday? i can't remember. months. fucking months ago, honey, and...
i need you. i need the strength in your hands. i need to hold your gaze. i need you to let go and lose control and just hold onto me. i'm so tired of getting bits and pieces here and there and in the end just doing it myself after you fall asleep because it's easier than having this conversation one more time and being the bad guy. i'm tired. and sometimes i just want to be the woman to your man, the femme to your butch. i couldn't take my eyes off that girl at the bar tonight, because i *wanted* her. that dynamic....my god. and everytime you and i locked eyes, all i knew was that it has been a very very long time since you looked at me that way.
and that...that is just murder to a femme's heart.