it's easy to lose yourself when you were never found to begin with. fragmented realities echo through my mind. i can't tell the difference between fact and fiction any more, if i ever could.
there's this image of you i sometimes get in my mind. you're sitting beside me in the car, and i'm driving. you grab my hand and squeeze it tightly, before letting it fall as you move your fingers along my thigh. you lean over and caress my neck with your lips, smiling as you pull away.
there's another one of us at the beach. i wade out of the water, watching you as you watch me. you pull me on top of you, laughing as you tell me all the places the sand will end up.
always, in these images i get, the sun is shining so brightly that all our flaws are erased, and the light seems to come from a place beneath our skin. they feel so real, but it never stops raining here, so i guess they can't be.
i remember how you'd tell me about your father. he was dying of cancer, but that was okay because you'd accepted it. but i asked you the other day, how he was doing, and you didn't know what i was talking about. maybe that wasn't real either.
i recall showing up on your doorstep, and into your arms without a word. you'd whisper "it's okay, i'm here" and i'd fall into you and forget the world. you'd carry me upstairs, throw me onto the bed and fuck me as though you could make me sweat out the insanity. as though tough love was all i needed. but you don't know what love is, so i guess that can't be real either.
always, in my mind, you're this strong, understanding, mysterious man who would leap from tall buildings to come to my rescue. but the hair on your face can't grow much longer than a millimetre, and your chest is scrawny, and your tears never stop flowing. so maybe you're not real. maybe i just made you up.
maybe i just imagined all of this, just so i could feel something.
there's this image of you i sometimes get in my mind. you're sitting beside me in the car, and i'm driving. you grab my hand and squeeze it tightly, before letting it fall as you move your fingers along my thigh. you lean over and caress my neck with your lips, smiling as you pull away.
there's another one of us at the beach. i wade out of the water, watching you as you watch me. you pull me on top of you, laughing as you tell me all the places the sand will end up.
always, in these images i get, the sun is shining so brightly that all our flaws are erased, and the light seems to come from a place beneath our skin. they feel so real, but it never stops raining here, so i guess they can't be.
i remember how you'd tell me about your father. he was dying of cancer, but that was okay because you'd accepted it. but i asked you the other day, how he was doing, and you didn't know what i was talking about. maybe that wasn't real either.
i recall showing up on your doorstep, and into your arms without a word. you'd whisper "it's okay, i'm here" and i'd fall into you and forget the world. you'd carry me upstairs, throw me onto the bed and fuck me as though you could make me sweat out the insanity. as though tough love was all i needed. but you don't know what love is, so i guess that can't be real either.
always, in my mind, you're this strong, understanding, mysterious man who would leap from tall buildings to come to my rescue. but the hair on your face can't grow much longer than a millimetre, and your chest is scrawny, and your tears never stop flowing. so maybe you're not real. maybe i just made you up.
maybe i just imagined all of this, just so i could feel something.
