cons and prose

loving me is like wearing a shirt that is itchy, with a tag that rubs your neck raw

is like a thong riding up or too tight of boxers that pinch your balls as you walk

being with me is like visiting a haunted house, the ghosts surround me, blood drips from the walls and the bed shakes every night at midnight

my love is crumbs in the bed, my humor a fork scraping the dinner plate, my personality the pen that is low on ink and you have to draw spirals on the paper to get it to write again but still stops halfway through an ill fated letter to your heart’s desire

loving me is like sitting on a bench in the middle of the night and the wind cuts through your jacket and no matter how you huddle for warmth it still chills to the bone

my love is like tripping over your own foot and looking around for an uneven tile or fold in the carpet

like stubbing your toe on the corner of the bed

like waking up perfectly happy in a warm spot in a too cold room and needing to pee, my love is that hour long struggle to fall back asleep, cold and tossing to and fro

my love is uncomfortable pauses, saying the wrong thing loudly and a lull in the music and everyone stares

like pulling out the trash bag and it as it comes out it breaks and the trash goes every where and it was the last bag in the box

like walking outside in the morning to go to work and your car is gone and you call the police to find out it has been repossessed

it is like riding a ferris wheel and it breaking down right as you reach the top

when someone enters the room and looks right at you and smiles and waves but there is someone right behind you and it is meant for them

it is the same feeling of pins and needles when your leg goes to sleep

like when someone passes gas on the elevator as they get off and you have ten more floors to go

it is like babysitting a kid with adhd and their parents gave them two red bulls right before you showed up

it is like the middle hour of a three hour movie that could have been done in two

like when your favorite band puts out a new album but decided to go a different direction this time

like when the gps says fifteen minutes and tries to autocorrect the course due to a wreck on the road but you were listening to that new album too loudly trying to understand what happened and never saw the route change
but it is also like being the only woman on the planet

like transcending into a goddess

massages and cuddles after a bad day

long passionate kisses for no reason other than your lips and mine need contact

flights of fancy and silly little tales of past unaccomplishments

it is every vapid, insipid piece of prose is written for you

it is trying to make sure you know every love song describes how i feel for you

it is never having to say you’re sorry for being mad and screaming, it is understood that it happens sometimes

it is having me there to beat on, to get the frustrations of a bad day out on because I am far stronger than the bad day and you need it

it is hearing i love you whispered into your ear for no reason other than it is true

of holding hands while i drive, music too loud and voices cracking

of me watching you do mundane things and wondering how in the fuck someone can be so perfect

and you are

it is taking a chance, for good and bad, dealing with ups and downs like a rollercoaster, it is that comfy oversized shirt that is soft and smells like me

it is being told how breathtaking you are when you feel at your worst and knowing i mean it

because i do, i really truly do

it is knowing someone needs you, needs to feel that reciprocation

because i do


12 thoughts on “cons and prose

  1. being astray from your path is like all the first part of out of sync, when you feel how you feel at the second part, the first part may not be prevalent any longer. Yes it is about reciprocation.

    Liked by 1 person

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