I miss simplicity.
After your first real romance, things become so much more real. There's no prince charming out there who understands when you don't want to have sex. There's no lover of your soul, nobody who is always going to be your favorite person in the world. It just doesn't work like that.
You can pretend, but you'd be pretending.
Right now, I just want a friend to drink lots of wine with. Take a few pills, feel really nice with. I don't want any contract of service, no expectation deadlock--just his arms around my shoulders on some front porch swing. Somewhere. Exchanging kisses behind the house, my back pressed into a steady pine. Counting stars on the dew-laden grass, flat on our backs, fingers intertwined. There are no streetlights here, wherever we are. He'd hug me with his chin rested atop my hair, breathe in my perfume mixed in with remnants of the night air as it melts into the morning. Watch the sun come up, and only then would we sleep.
Is that strange, too romantic?
Things so beautiful can't be real because most things in my head are not. If I was lonely for the past year, I didn't know it until now. I'm making up for lost time. I'm exploding on the inside, burning like paper and crumbling into ash.
Sweep me off my feet.

Labels: the best possible way to spend a night