I have this dream about your mouth on my mouth. We leave pizza in the oven too long and the whole room fills with smoke. In this burnt haze, I can only see you. I’m not upset. I think you taste better than DiGiorno.
I am notoriously bad at texting people back when I don’t want to. I’m trying to be better. I guess. Sort of.
I like when you text me. It’s like that dream, your mouth on mine. Can I fill my lungs with this? I don’t care that it singes a bit. You’re famous for going up in flames. I’ve been seeing how hot I can get my shower without screaming.
Text me. I’ll text you back.
Tell me about your day – the mundane and boring shit. Tell me what you bought at the grocery store and how bad everything’s been lately. Tell me about your mother and how she wants you to come back home for a few months. Tell me about the misunderstanding with your best friend and how your pride won’t allow you to fix things.
You don’t have a therapist, so let me be a stand in. You don’t have a partner, so let me be the bouncing board for your best and worst ideas. I don’t want commitment. I want right now.
You’re the only person I don’t find annoying. Is that bad?
Text me. Let’s go get drinks.