The truth is we were meant to be together, but I always preferred choice. It gives you the ability to snub anything resembling destiny. I spat in the face of destiny when I met you. My heart aches in a way that reminds me I can feel. I crave an interaction with you like the drugs I used to love. You are better. You are real.
It all began with a delightful conversation. How wonderfully free it was. Life and art, existential angst. It was never easy with you. Not from the beginning. Oh my god.
I happened into you again. Months later at a restaurant. You ignored the man I was with and bought my entire meal. Your long message was received in secret from the person that had claim over me. I remember that day you said. I remember you too. Meet tomorrow? Okay...
I told you not to fall in love as I straddled your broad, muscled chest. My beaten down heart laughed delightfully at the idea that I would break yours. My heart can't break you said. It is already broken. I'll never love you. That is what you said. I said I'd never love you either. We didn't fuck. I felt you as we moved against one another, our clothes not quite containing us. I'd made a pact with myself not to have sex. I wanted to feel temptation.
You asked me out with your friends not knowing how dangerous I was with playthings. All it took was a quick compliment, an honest observation of two others. Three pieces to make you feel pain and anger. One more would come later. The idea of others to follow.
I was friends with your friends from that day. A little too charming for one who became your enemy, later your best friend. Perfectly charming for a happy little couple, open to a visitor to join them in a tiny little home. You fucked me before it happened because you saw the invitation coming. It was an angry painful fuck. I liked the feeling of your strong arms grabbing me. The quick angry pumping as a result of you trying to lay claim over the one who had laughed about your feelings. I put your hands against my throat and you applied practiced pressure. The room blurred just the right amount. You don't hold anything sacred you said. I agreed even though I wasn't sure. I didn't know myself as well back then. You had a way of making me feel... so small and deadly. I was a secret monster determined to make you unsatisfied. You were determined to never be satisfied. We played a little game of tug o'war. We made a perfectly terrible couple. Your roommate hated me. Why are you here? He'd ask. I just smiled and shrugged. Hope your day was nice I'd say sugary.
You yelled at me when you found out about the couple. I showed up to apologize even though I wasn't sorry. I told you I wasn't. You don't understand I said. I had a relationship end that day, but it wasn't the one with you. I told you I enjoyed their cramped bed, eating and fucking and smoking and licking. We all moved together. We didn't talk. I didn't want to. You forgave me, but also did not. I was this evil you disliked. I was this evil you wanted to speak with. The temptation and mischief clearly sparkling in my eyes when I spoke to you. There was no one but us. Even as the small pools filled up with the bodies of stand in characters. I felt you. We looked at one another in comfort as a clown performed bad rap and I gave a knowing look that chided appropriation. The years that separated us glowed in your eyes with a "kids these days" look but it didn't matter as I knew I'd see you later. It had been a month or so since we last spoke. You picked me up when I saw you, scooping my thin but tall body up in a way that only a tall, muscular man can. I felt so tiny. Taken.
I did more bad. I liked to do that to you. I didn't trust you or your fucking broken heart. That stupid girl you loved in the past I didn't care for. I didn't do what you wanted. You hated my blatant disrespect. I hung out with your former acquaintance. Crashing at his place. He fell in love with me while I dated half the town. I didn't love him back. I loved him. I didn't want to fuck him. I fucked him. He was a virgin. It made things complicated. I didn't care about anyone. I didn't want to. I saw you off and on. Whenever we saw one another we were in each other. Taken over by something deeper than mere desire. I never texted you after if I could help it. You were always mad at me. I felt my addiction to you. I cried over it as your friend comforted me begrudgingly. Fuck I craved you. I sweated with desire with the hot sun reflecting on that stupid white fence.
I don't know when we stopped. It wasn't for awhile. I remember laying in your arms. We didn't fuck that night. I was upset. I'd found someone else while you were traveling Europe with a poor excuse for me. I told that man that I may not see him again. He cried. I thought it was strange. I had never seen you cry. This creature who didn't know me like you did was crying. I'd made other men cry, but this was different. He wasn't trying to control me. He was feeling. He thought I was good. You knew I was not. I chose him to make me better, but he annoyed me the way they always do. So I went to see you because I couldn't think of where else to go. Of course it had been months and many men and women between the two of us. Still, I felt so comfortable with you. I'd see you sometimes in a way that I attempted to make platonic. You were always trying to convince me to marry you. To leave him. I wanted you to show up with a ring. I wanted you to tell me we were leaving to go elsewhere. You never did. To be fair I never said yes. I made fun of you even while my heart beat with excitement. Don't be dumb I'd say. Don't.