sirens and tequila

Sirens.  And tequila.  

Sirens and tequila.  And water.  Substituting vodka for tequila sometimes.  But always water and sirens.  Each night of vacation.  

And memories of Dan.  

He doesn't read this.  He doesn't review the memories.  Go over the shared things.  He doesn't give a flying fuck, as my mother would say.  He is done.  I would like to be on that page of the chapter, I pretend to be so far advanced.  But at night it does its catching up.  And everyone else in the universe goes to bed.  And I'm wide the fuck awake with shitty memories and a blinking cursor and tequila and no limes.  

I want to be penetrated.  I want to cum.  But just by one person in the universe, only one.  It's impossible, it's fucking monumental.  It's inane.  But I want to feel real.  I want to be held.  But only by him.  

Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind.  Can someone just make it a feasibility already?  Where do I sign?  

I've practiced Spanish.  I've cleaned.  I've folded origami.  I've written.  I've read.  I'm developing character, I tell myself.  I even pray.  I smile in darkness with tears on my face as I say thank you.   

But I want to trace the stubble of your chin.  I want to feel the weight of your curls in my fingers in darkness.  I want to listen to you breathe as you sleep.  

I miss.  I miss.  I miss.