Pensive

 

Sounds from every direction. They blend and bleed together, but somehow remain independent from each other. They combine to sound like different songs, from different bands. It's raining, and drops evade the awning to hit the back of my neck. It's chilling and calming. I wish, I really wish, I could stand in it, and let it wash all the frustration away.

 

I keep running between moments. His kisses; I need a man with stronger lips. I learned that much. I need a one with a firmer touch, most definitely. The music changes, a sensuous beat. I wish I were dancing up close. I fake enthusiasm too, I learned that today. Must stop that. The football fan, he played with me. I think he wanted to make me smile, tossing that half moon as he traversed the crosswalk in front of my stopped car. It worked. I want to thank him.

 

I want to be wanted. Is that so wrong? So superficial? So arbitrary?

 

If he says he wants me, shouldn't I believe? If he says he wants what I want, shouldn't I believe? If he says he wants to make me feel, shouldn't I believe? At least until he proves false... why must he always prove false?!

 

I want love, but until it finds me, can't I just be wanted? He said he loved me, twice in a few moments. He said he loved me with his cock in my mouth. I knew he didn't. He knew he didn't. I pretended it was cute, charming, a result of being overwhelmed. But what if it was more? What if it wasn't just rambling in ecstasy?  What if he said it, thinking I'd believe? As I believed he wanted to make me feel. What if he thought I'd believe him? Fuck him! I didn't ask for love, just the truth. Reality in a touch, reality in a kiss... from weak lips. He shouldn't have said it.

 

He wants to hit someone. They ask him to leave the bar, he is persistent in his argument. His hands politely behind his back, but I can see. He wants to hit, to let his fists fly. I understand that. I want to talk to him. I want to ask him, is it worth it? Being belligerent, antagonizing. But he chooses to go, before I'm done wanting.

 

The music is loud now. It bothers and comforts me. It makes me want to hide in the quiet, while it lures me to move.

 

I'm angry, frustrated, irritated and underwhelmed. Extremely underwhelmed. One good night, that's what I need. Should I pick a face from the crowd, look for someone stumbling out of one of the bars surrounding me? Would it work? My adventure didn't. At least I can say I went. At least I can say I tried. It's a small, but relevant, point. I tried. I don't want to quit, so I won't... like smoking.

 

Keep Bleeding in Love... the techno remix. That's wrong. That song is sensual, passionate. It shouldn't be remixed to accommodate cheesy rock line dancing.

 

The guys taking cover at the doors, they watch me scribble in my little blue book. I wonder if they wonder.

 

A soft wet breeze caresses my face. It feels so good. No lover has ever caressed my face that way, made me feel with a feather light touch. He should want me to gasp. I deserve to gasp. He should've wanted to make me groan, and pant and cry out. I wanted it for him. I gave it to him. He gasped my name more than once. He gasped that he loved me. I didn't need his name to gasp.

 

He has to want more than me. He has to want for me. A lot of lessons learned in a few hours. Worth the gas money and lost sleep? Probably. I should sleep, but I don't want to. I want to think, and I want to stop thinking. I want to feel, and I want to stop feeling.

 

I need to be touched! Touch for touch... isn't that how it should be, at least in the beginning? Later, time can be devoted, without the need for reciprocation. But, in the beginning... I want to touch, for his sake, as much as mine. I just want him to want that too. Is that selfish? I don't think it is. If two people come together, for however long, shouldn't they want the same things?

 

So many people, I know how they feel; alive, open to a night of possibilities. I was here just a few weeks ago. I felt it too. I wish I could take that feeling from them, absorb it. I can't.

 

All the things I want, they are all the same thing. I want someone who wants.