And he's on his knees before you, the world on a platter,
(Well, in a ring box but that doesn't really matter)
So he's offering the world and diamonds and gold and fancy cars, the DAR, the Earth,
What you're worth,
He looks up, cocky, expectant, showing off this gigantic rock that sunk the goddamn Titanic, Jack and Rose on it, God knows who else on it,
Blonde hair, baby-blue stare, so very Aryan race, a model citizen, model's face,
More Edgar than Heathcliff,
But the hair you want is brown, the eyes brown brown,
His lips in your teeth,
The most beautiful lips, one side a half frown, it takes you down, back through the years to
The bad boy, the best boy, the boy from the wrong side of town,
And you're shaking your head, no, it's out of your control
Of course it is, it always has been, always will be
Because he's more you than you are, your souls are the same, still, always has been, always will,
He's up on his feet, not really shattered, it doesn't really matter to him, not the way he does to you, when he left you, all those times he left you (was it really only two?) and then
you're up on your feet, up and running, night bussing the distance,
you use bus as a verb, it's fucking absurd and you'll share that with him later, after,
and you think about words and meaning and things you should've said and they're all here in your head
but you didn't, but you will
and you don't believe in full stops anymore, they're for wimps, those little reflective caesuras, who has time to reflect? (It's all you've been doing lately, reflecting his light, and you weren't doing it right, so you left)
no, just enjambment all the way, Baby, with little Miss Syndeton along for the ride, for a good time, Poly, was she the one who ruined her nice, new dress? Poor girl, made a mess, like another nice girl you once knew,
And you run the last piece of path, the last half a mile of track to get you back to what you want, your feet find the footfalls carved into the street,
And you're there, at his door, hand hammering, heart hammering, stammering his name, will he care that you came? And you hear him, you hear him
I'm coming, I'm coming
(Repetition's a trip!)
Oh, you will be, you think, wicked and wild, high, not dry,
He yanks open the door
Rory?
You're suddenly a fan of assonance
Could he look any more glorious? Tousled hair, clenched jaw, clenches your stomach, dries your salivating mouth so no words come out
It's all so quiet, so silent, like two minds stripped back, ripped open, and they tap into each other, tap, tap, tap
He understands, steps back, as you step in,
One hand on his taut, tight chest to steady yourself as you
Drink him in, breathe him in, Jess, yes
The way you remember him best, you remember it all, spring, summer, winter, fall with him
You want it all with him again and again and again and Amen,
Because he makes you blasphemous, a hedonist, a messy mess, adventurous, he's the God you know best, on his pedestal, no time to fall, nowhere to fall to
Earth isn't good enough for him, the ground not hallowed enough, our oceans too shallow for him
No words spoken, not even a token "Hi"
Your trademark greeting, can you trademark a greeting? You'll have to ask him later, after,
You think you can because all words belong to you, to you two,
You follow him through the room, you'd follow him anywhere he goes, corny, no? That song from an old TV show stuck in your head, it was good, he used to watch it, he once said,
Still you follow where he leads, to the couch, catch sight of his frown, a bottle on the table, good old Johnnie Black Label,
And still no words, nothing, nada, zip, you've got a head full of synonyms, to spill over him, over your lips, to fill his head but then
He runs his hand through his hair and you stare and you stare, bereft, left with the memory of your hand on his chest,
What are you doing here? A variation of his New York minute "Why did you come?" asked so long ago, in another time, another space and place and time, before you were mine
Does he ask or just think this? You don't know at this point, you're riding in his lip-tick half-frown, surfing on it, can't get away, catch a wave to his eyes on you as they look through you, like he knew you, knows you, but it's been years yet you're here
You're hoping you wont need to speak, his boring eyes make you feel so fucking weak but there's power in that expletive, its really neat how words can empower, embolden, embrace, you move to him to hold onto him, just a bit of him, the tip of him,
It's a full moon, you say, wanna go howl at it? He smirks, his eyes never leaving yours because of course he knows what you mean, doesn't know what you've seen or who you've been for years but your very core is
Rory, that old story he keeps coming back to, wants more of, in mind if not in body, you're a book he can't put back, the Artful Dodger, stolen from the library, kept in his back pocket, always with him, touching him, cupping him, he writes in your lines, fines racking up, time stacking up, you go from pocket to pocket to pocket until he owns all the gold, owes it all in fees and fines, but it's worth it, you're worth it (How very L'Oréal of him)
You're a book in his hand, his hand running along your spine until you shiver, quiver under his roaming gaze, drunk in the haze of him, the very way of him, got you thinking something, keep thinking what you're thinking and time bends back on itself and you're a 17-year-old wet dream for him, you'll come apart at the seams for him, in your best party dress, his hand, his taste, yes, his hand on your waist, the diner, him needing to be inside you, all of it comes screaming back, a tisket-a-tasket, all your eggs in his basket, Shane, 8 o'clock at The Oasis rain, turn the tap off again, New York, you came, and you're mixing it all up and he's fucking it all up, Bracebridge, hitch a ride, win the snowman prize with Bjork's snowwoman eyes, his nefarious ways in the most serious phase for you, formative, all under his watchful gaze and eyes, Max's party, just let him inside, sad boy
You look
Not a boy anymore, no, nothing boyish about him anymore, filled out, fleshed out, but still with that fucking pout that will ruin you if you allow it to and you mourn for him, you grieve for him, that chucked out boy with the shucked-up sleeves, who needed believing more than anyone could see, but those arms, those forearms under those sleeves, oh, they could harm, and they did, they did
All those times in the dark, never Dean,
Never Logan,
Only Jess, Jess, Jess,
Your hands become his caress doing what he knows best,
Well, doesn't that just objectify your God? Oh, my God, his name on your lips as you come, come, come undone in the dark
I've only borrowed his hands for a minute, you exclaim, and his name on your lips and his brain and his voice for a lifetime only, only, only, if only, your heart beats in the dark of it,
Wanting to get back to that one thing you knew,
Besides
What he was best at was you, knowing you, more than you sometimes wanted him to,
What are you doing? Here? Then? When?
Then he slooooooows it all down, your racing brain, the reason you came, just by saying your name again, Rory?
Slowing down, blowing your mind like powerful peyote, you need to get something out
I miss you,
Present tense, simple words to analyze, pick through, only three
You, me, it is what it is.
And there it is! Your reflective stop, it means a lot
if you put it in.
And I love you. This you subsume for now, will exhume from the shallow grave when you resume with him because you will resume things because
You've loved him since you've known him and you suspect maybe even before that, he's always had an impact, you keep going back
There's no BC and AD just BJ (you smile at that, like a cat that wants to lap at the proverbial cream, a walking wet dream again) and the now and the here and a whisper in your ear and it makes you so wet
You forget to add the period