last night you took me to the closing night of the film festival. it was nice to be part of its ending, since it consumed so many of my days. our days. and so often we sat together and grimaced at the noisy people behind us. at the halfway mark i stopped leaning into you, and stopped rubbing your leg, because you called it as friendship. i was glad you did this, because i didn't know how to read it. you said it was sad and i agreed.
last night i drank too much red wine and i wanted you. but i hid these feelings. because maybe it was just the red wine. then you gave 3 kisses at the bus stop. my mouth, my neck, and you blew one as i moved away. or did i imagine that? and it was an uncertain ride home. sadness, again, and i was unable to reconcile what this meant, how i felt, where we were at just now.
this morning, on another bus, i thought of you. i thought of that morning when i walked out of your bathroom and you were slowly and coyly dancing to johnny cash in your underwear. at that point, this morning, i really did want you.
hounds of love, kate bush. this song is you, right? though maybe it's me too. and maybe it can be applied to everyone who's ever feared their own desires (ie. everyone). but maybe i'm still in a red wine haze and reading too much into things.
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