You- singing karaoke. To Me.
You – cooking, shopping, cleaning a kitchen, sharpening a knife, talking marinades, selecting produce, discussing dishes and flavors and spice..
You- talking with me, across a table, about anything, everything, but talking, conversing, observing, listening; the banter, the play, this and that, the easing, the flirting, the suggestions.of.questionable intent.
3 hour lovemaking sessions.
Already miss the random facts, the interest in learning, the political sparring, the stories of your trash talking team mates and your blood on the ground.
Missing: Your ability to talk, with anyone, about most anything.
Missing your joy, your laughter, your sense of exploration, your tender loving care of my psyche. Let’s not forget your music, our music, the music we took in- blues, crooners, hard metal.
Might miss your history, your endless defenses of NRA, conservative, neanderthal political views. You may wish to add a lie detector expert to your panel of judges. Your friends have weighed in no matter what you have paid them in laughs and distractions. Your history has told on you from altars with one of two standing alone wearing white. My suspicions were multiplied, laid on the table where poker faces were no longer needed.
I was grateful for honesty, perspective and the freedom to claim fun while it gives.
Fuck you for threatening me. Go and find someone you would not dump upon my return. Take your own fucking threat and make it your future.
#for Reticent Mental Property. Images courtesy of the web.