How Near Yet So Far

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The sweetness of your lips as we drink vodka to block out ordinary pleasures; they remind me of teenage bloodlust and the sensation of drowning that comes with wanting to write for a living. Let’s get drunk and chase each other down streets we don’t know of; let me be your man even though I can barely stand. My desire is to see you in a red dress and to write prose that will ignite what’s left of me. These lives of ours, how they go without us even knowing, so take my hand and follow me somewhere you’ve never been before. I remember the image of his body by the side of the road; legs torn off and bleeding out, we once talked about poetry into the early hours, but not anymore. I’m incapable of love and incapable of being loved. It doesn’t bother me like it used to; it’s just something I’ve come to accept. This world is far too flat, and I’ve never met a girl who didn’t believe in anything other than the laws of gravity and God. There’s magic in the quiet hours, and hell in the silence that no one else will ever know. I don’t mind the pain, as long as I’m given a chance to taste something exotic in return. I’m not looking for a blessed life, just one that allows me to revel in this gift of mine. Ten thousand eyes and a nose for adventure. A penchant for the macabre, and an allergy to settle for what others would call an opulent state of being. There’s so much to see, but you have to avert your eyes and use your mind instead. Listen to Sufjan Stevens, and allow me to carry you to the bottom of the garden so we may bathe in heavy rain. Take my hand and place it where you sought meaning in your transition from a girl into a woman. I’m prolific but not with love;Β it’s not that I don’t care, it’s just that these days are built around words instead. When things change, I’ll buck up my ideas, but until then I’ll do my best to keep taking you down as you toss and turn between the sheets. History means nothing. Pride so easy to confuse with purpose. We breathe for only so long, so let’s go to bed and create a reason to say no. How near you are, and yet still so far.

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