Monday, May 23, 2011

Maybe in May, JuneSong

and then I was happy, because you do that a lot, make me happy. Very much so actually.
but things have come in waves and bouts. I wanted to tell you, I want to, even now. Except the words get tangled up and I can't say it out proper.
Sometimes I want to talk, but I never know how to do it without sounding self-absorbed.
It might just seem like the same old thing over and over and over again anyway, and why, for fuck's sake, can't I just drop it already? Or at least take my issues some place else.
So then, I started, and then I stopped.
and then I was sad. But then you were there. And you make me happy, and you do that a lot.
When you pull me in, to you, and we're nose to nose, lip to lip, for just a bit, everything else disappears. You make me happy. You made me happy.
But then, for just a bit, I was sad. And I don't like to think that maybe, I ended up making you less happy than you were. When all you do is make me happy.
And now that thought, it makes me sad.

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