Two years ago we fell beneath the spectacle of the monstrous holiday tree. He and I. His words made me live and I loved. And I, I realise now, made him live again. We awakened each other. I told him I didn’t believe and he made me, believe. He said he never thought it could be so, and I instructed him. And at last I said, “I don’t want to fall in love with you.” yet I did.
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His voice is aural smack.
i could pillow beneath the blankets with his voice.
and you’re always on my mind.
funny how these things work.
i’m torn in directions divergent. him, you, the present one, the future.
it’s too much.
never wanted more than what i had.
it should have been me, you asshole. me
i remember you well in every spot you stepped; every unit of space you occupied.
the things you touched, i touch—paused and careful, to feel your presence.
the steps, my bed, thechairs,thecouchtherugthecarmydeskchairkeyboard
i can’t, as i so bravely wrote, move on.
and you think you may have found the antidote and all it will take is to replace one thing with the other but after attempts to relieve the throb, the sorrow, you realise how wrong you were: there is no antidote. there is only the one.
il y a seulement de toi et je t’aime tellement.
his voice is poison.
inspires love and hatred. inspires viciousness. pushes rationality and composure to places i can no longer stand to go.
he needs me. and i, him. we need.
yet the divide has become too much. for now.
there are times i want to never have met him. there are times the connecting fibre pulls so strong that i feel we have always been.
he thinks this is enough. this.
How I Snagged the Hottest Gadget in the Universe
by Dave McAwesome
Technologically speaking, I’m not much of an early adopter. I don’t own a Nintendo Wii, I’m not replacing my perfectly good TV for a flat screen, and I don’t cyberdate 14-year-olds on MySpace. I’m a rare breed, indeed.
But, lo! There’s a new must-have gadget that’s so revolutionary we’re going to replace the saying “the best thing since sliced bread” with “the best thing since sliced iPhone.”
what can i say…
i cry my frustrations and hatred and love and desire to die. and his voice, his words, nearly twin mine. his voice breaks and we both want to strike. darlin’, i say, i don’t want to fight. yet we both want to. not each other. so much. want to fight that which has crushed us into compartments.
what are you afraid of? i’ve asked, honestly unsure, that you’ll want me? that you won’t want me?
that you’ll want me when i have the two things you’ve never wanted?
so he’s upset that i’ve been too loose with his identity.
but i’m not. his story is also my story.
all i can say is, i love you too much to betray you. however, i will tell what is mine. and someday, i will tell all.
fuck you fuck you fuck you…
that’s what we say to each other.
when i understand you and i.
when i know you better than anyone.
when you and i are treading.
when i’ve never been so alone.
when you need someone to listen.
when i believe in you.
when i care.
when all i’ve wanted is you to want me.
we fucked in front of thieves and perverts. i didn’t care. unbuttoned his shirt as he held me against the framework of a giant bed. reveled in his beauty and our mutual perversion. my hands roaming over his chest and wonderfully small waist. my hands clutching at his tiny ass. my hands embedded in his loved curls. my dress up and corset revealed to all. we fucked so ferociously that i had bruises for weeks.
would have loved to have thrown him down on the giant bed and screwed him until he couldn’t take anymore. in front of everyone. wouldn’t have minded the crowd.
we were the beautiful that night.