I want you

I want you by Bob Dylan came on the speakers--man I fucking loved that song. It was so loud and all I was wondering was if he was thinking what I was thinking. I wondered if he knew I put it on for him, like I had the sundress that was running up my thighs as I lay on his bed. Something told me he had no idea though.

He seemed so preoccupied. His mind was a traffic jam that was always written all over his face. I sat with my head off the end of the bed, my hair draped on its edge. My shoulders were by his feet and my legs lazily bent, wrapped by his hips for him to stroke.  I could feel his every touch ignite my skin, his fingertips moving without maps, keeping my toes curled in suspense while I held onto his jeans as if for dear life.

If I had known the weight of the distance between us a week later perhaps I would’ve placed my head beside his. But like I said, I was on the opposite side, with my head hanging and the blood rushing, and the folk rock blaring, my mind wandering around the walls of his room. It was when the sun hit the glass that was on his desk, making rainbows on the ceiling, that he asked me if I ever day dreamed. I didn’t know what he meant, because I thought the answer was assumed, yes of course I did. I asked him if he wanted to day dream with me. He smiled and brushed it off only to disappear back into his mind, lost, far from my side.

I wondered if he was going to miss me. A wonder I now laugh off as if it were impossible like that of a fairy tale. I felt as if wonders like that, were wasted thoughts, if there be such a thing. A feeling to leave me conflicted. For after all, if I didn’t wonder about impossible things like all those before me, I would never get anywhere worth remembering. I would simply be ordinary for now and forever like the boy who then sat beside me.

He didn’t miss me and he would never come to love me like I had him. I held no remorse in my failed attempts and wasted wonders, however. He had become a memory like that very day, a picture in an album of who I used to be, when I was where I was back then. And as for me, I had become a new again, elevated to a new high by my very ability to wonder about all the little what ifs, that I knew he would never be capable of getting his hands on.