Hi.

You texted me this morning.

My phone buzzed in my hand and made the little sound it makes when I get a text from you. Your name flashed across my screen. Words appeared.

You said you didn’t know if you should text me or not.
I said I was trying to learn to live without you.
You said you didn’t know if you could live without me.
I said love is a battlefield and we are soldiers on the front line, and we must choose if we are ready to die for the cause or step back and let those who’s souls are braver than ours take the helm and forge the way. THIS. IS. SPARTA!

Ok, that is not what I said.

But I may as well have said aliens are blue,
I like pleasure laced with pain,
I used to smoke cigarettes,
and there’s a movie called Coffee and Cigarettes. It’s one of those noir type films that only the artsy folks could ever get behind, but I like the name of it.
Also, coffee and cigarettes are a really good combination. Cigarettes and booze too. It’s just too bad that cigarettes are bad for you and make you stink because there is something pleasurable about inhaling smoke in your lungs and then exhaling it all the way out like a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

Sigh

I may as well have said my heart is a fortress and you are not allowed in because as soon as I said whatever nonsensical thing I said, you dipped all the way out and I haven’t heard from you since.

And that really hurts. I need you to know that.

It really hurts when you text me and open up a dialogue with me and then just disappear in the middle of the conversation.

In case you didn’t know, and you probably don’t, I love you just the same as the day I told you I loved you over the phone. I was sitting at my table in the kitchen. We were teasing each other about how deep it all was and how much we felt when suddenly the I love you’s just came rolling on out like Vanna White flipping over those letters on Wheel of Fortune.
We both laughed a litte bit afterwards.

There are so many things I want to tell you.
You were my friend before you were my lover.
I know you want to be friends now, but I’m not there yet.
It hurts to think of you with someone else
I hope you won’t give up on me

Lyrics from a song just now:
What happened to bulletproof weeks in your arms

I often think about all the things that might have driven you away from me and I want to ask you about them but I don’t know if you would be honest with me because some of them would probably hurt and I know you wouldn’t want to hurt me so I’ll just list them here so that you’ll know I’m aware of my shortcomings.

My ass. It’s less than stellar, I know. Its flat and wide and pale and I don’t know how to make it jiggle. Plus, I think of that one time you were hitting it from behind and you needed a break and I wonder if it’s because there were pimples back there or too much hair (I did try to shave as much as I could) or maybe even some TP in my ass crack! HORRORS! I can’t even deal. Or what if there was a poop stain? GASP!

Lyrics from a song just now:
And your hearts a thousand colors, but they’re all shades of blue

My stomach. No explanation needed. We both know what it is and what it is not.

Panties. Or lack thereof. Particularly that one pair I kept putting on every night while you were here in August because I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, and you finally told me to stop putting them on because they were dirty. OH DEAR

Coffee. I didn’t have coffee for you that one morning when you woke up later than me and you really wanted some but all I was thinking about was eating lunch and so you didn’t have any for the whole day and I’m sorry about that.

Tears. My stupid tears. Let’s not go into details, we’ve already hashed that one out in text.

Job. I don’t have one. Maybe that worries you?

My house,
My dog,
My hair,
My hometown,
My mom,
My life,
Me,
Me,
Me

I know these are all superficial and the reason is likely much deeper than any of these but I have to beat myself into a bloody pulp before I can begin to breathe again. It is just how I do. I don’t expect you to understand but this process works for me. I have to go all the way down into the dirty damp dungeon and wallow around in there and when I have had enough of my own filth, I will ring a bell and ask to be let out where I will then go bathe in the cleansing release of all that is unholy and unlovable in me.

I mostly just came here to say I love you
I miss you
I know you don’t want me anymore
But I still want you
And until I don’t
I can’t watch you love someone else
Please forgive me

December

By Michael Miller

I want to be a passenger
in your car again
and shut my eyes
while you sit at the wheel,

awake and assured
in your own private world,
seeing all the lines
on the road ahead,

down a long stretch
of empty highway
without any other
faces in sight.

I want to be a passenger
in your car again
and put my life back
in your hands.

Love,
Me