I was going through some files in my computer-- you know, trying to clean things up-- and I found some old things I had written. Must have been around the same time period because my "muse" was one of two exes. Hey, at least I didn't say any names LOL. I'm sure though, that neither of them will read these entries.
In any case, I have a few things I'll share over the coming weeks. Read some of this stuff and shocked my damn self so I hope you enjoy.
Not giving any back-story so take it for what it is.
We started strong.
The taste of his name on my lips made me moan.
Before long I was gone. Never tasted something so complete. Didn’t have to snack. Have to diet. Have to cheat.
My every meal he undoubtedly became.
And loved this new flavor of his name.
I said it for no reason; whispered it without shame. Spoke it with conviction as to stake my claim. Tasted every dialect, every colloquial whim. Every ingredient in the recipe of him. My mouth stayed open, my taste buds eager, my appetite growing and my patience meager.
When I knew my meal was coming I would salivate. Take whatever portion of his name he would allocate. I’d try and wait until he served me, but some nights the kitchen was closed so I went to bed thirsty. More and more he began to ration my supply and I would wonder if he didn’t have or simply did deny? Hallucinations took all clarity; I imagined his sporadic answers to my calls were just for charity.
Cause now a taste of him was something like a special rarity.
I was starved for his moniker; my heart emaciated. My tongue was bitter; the place where love once sat now held hatred.
But not for him.
Not for the name I held above than my own. I tasted tears shed for my fears unnamed unknowns. Does he stand, busy— his lips ajar, waiting for my essence? Is distance my incessant curse or his hidden blessing? A smokescreen he can hide behind to conceal his indiscretion? Am I crazy—feeding constant speculation to my stressing? I try to lessen hunger pains, thinking that when he has the time, he’ll pick up the phone and dial me up and finally give me mine.
Then doubt creeps in I wonder if there any left to ration?
If another girl’s proximity trumps my unbridled passion?
I can’t get his taste out my mouth.
