I miss you on the nights when I see the city beneath me, and it’s alive, and in love, and everything that I am not.
I miss you when my eyes meet a stranger’s from the crowd, and he asks if I’m here alone, and he smiles in a way that’s always made me a little weak.
I miss you when he comes closer and it feels wrong. And when something incredible happens and I’m so happy I could die and I remember I can’t tell you about it anymore. And when the air is perfectly warm on a summer night, and I can see all the stars, and I realize what a shame it is that you’re not living in this moment with me.
I miss you, even though you don’t want me to.
And I can’t take this, even though I have to.
You’re not good for me.
But I don’t want good. And I don’t want to miss you. And I don’t want all this space you’ve left me drowning in.
I just want you.
You’ll never be what I need, but I swear you are all that I want.
I want reckless, and toxic, and painful. Heartache and lies and glory. I want all of your hurt and mine buried underneath these sheets. I want these drunken kisses as the night falls, you pressed up against me.
I want our restless nights, legs tangled together, sheets in between us, unable to keep us apart. I want you beside me, even if it means you’ll be a thousand miles away from me as our bodies touch.
This is me giving you permission to take what you want from me.
This is me giving you permission to be the most selfish you have ever been.
This is me giving you permission to stare at me and pierce right through me and feel nothing at all.
This is me giving you permission to brush your fingers underneath my shirt like you want me in all the ways I want you to.
This is me giving you permission to miss me only when it’s last call, and the music stops, and the lights turn on, and you’re blinded by sobriety and a sudden loneliness that floods through your veins.
This is me giving you permission to kiss me and set fire to my lungs and watch me burn.
This is me giving you permission to make love to me without ever uttering the word.
This is me giving you permission to be gone in the morning.
This is me giving you permission to break my heart.
I dare you.
Just this once, be my destruction. Be the most dangerous game of pretend I have ever known.
It’s okay, really.
I promise I don’t mind.