it's 3:14 pm, on October 13, 2021 - bruise.

~

no matter anything and everything, nobody has missed me like old movies, like kissing in the rain. no one looks out the window at night and remembers the taste of my skin.

nobody even takes a drink of beer, and thinks, all nostalgic, "I wonder how she's doing?" justin might spend twenty years in new york, away, and brian's heart will always hold him. I was no one's first love, nobody's one true.

the romances get this wrong: no one is your "one true" for life. the best we get is a few days, a week. maybe a few years. if you work really hard you can extend that, and keep extending it. but sitting here, I know: I was no one's one true for a single moment in time.

don't get me wrong: I know this is on my own head, no one else's. I didn't let anybody in enough to get there, didn't want anyone to know.

brian kinney says, "it's all sex, or death. except death doesn't sell tickets." shana said, "all writing is about love or loss, at its heart." twenty five years later I still think about Paris at least once a month, sometimes once a week or more. wondering if he's happy, if he's okay. I hope he isn't dead.

forty is the new twenty so right now I'm nineteen and lonely, I'm waiting in an empty parking lot, I'm hiding hiding hiding and not getting on a plane.

~

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- - March 26, 2022
nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy - March 25, 2022
- - March 10, 2022
- - December 15, 2021
bruise - December 13, 2021

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