bijou i'm meeting you again for the first time every time one of them walks in the room. i can see myself catching your eye as i pass through the door, unfaltering and moving straight toward you, never blinking. your lips are always slightly parted, with a brown freckle right where the warmth starts. and i walk past, and you turn to watch me go. 020721
bijou the way milan kundera uses the word vertigo, it's not just a feeling of dizzyness or spinning. it's an overwhelming desire to fall.

fall hard and fall far.
bijou ^so strange to read this blip over a year later. after all this time had passed, i finally got the look out of him i had wanted. it was a short dress and tall shoes, long blonde hair hanging down. i walked past him when he was standing right in front of the stage, and i could feel him follow me with his eyes to the back of the room. he didn't recognise me. then, sure as everything true and real in this world, when i came back into the room he gave me that look. lips more than parted, he stared. gawked? and i smiled big with my teeth and waved. he just stared. i walked past him and joined my beau by the door. it felt good, every bit as good as i had imagined it would, to make him wish things had been different, to make him wish he had treated me better, that he hadn't left. so far away, but not far enough. i had always had these selfish wishes that he would someday see what he was missing. and i think maybe he did, but it was way too late. he could never be with me, i had seen him at the worst of his worst. and that's bad. i could never be with him, not because i'm afraid of his worst, but because he never let me in and never would. never could treat me quite right. never would love me the way he should.

i don't like thinking that if he asked me to join him halfway across the country where he is now, that i would give up everything i have to give him a chance. god that hurts to even think about. you keep fucking up my life. you keep fucking up my life.
what's it to you?
who go