Ooooookay

I walked barefoot over the marble. Yay old photos. Yay new photos. Whipped cream. . .hells yeah. Kissing can, in fact, be grotesque. And. . .I love my nickname from my girl. And I don't think I'll ever tell it to anybody else. But it makes me melty.

Paper time.
Sure it is.
Any minute now.

Parentheticals

when i look at old photos of you i wonder
what i was thinking? eyes so blue (brown)
voice(s) so dulcet (sometimes) and so (more often) shrill
avoidance
desperation
revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse
but you always hated when i quoted shakespeare (dante)
or when i asked for what you didn't want to give. you took my jeans (shoes) (kisses) (care) (shame)
without asking. could you not take some occasion. . .
there i go again. there are photos of us (just one Us, not all)
and i look at them and see who i was through your eyes
who you were to me.