NOT as a verb, it only pretended.

I faintly remember May something back two years ago. I remember an angry drive down M-59, always having to drive way too damn far to reach anything worthwhile. I remember the introductions and my hesitation to ever speak your name, and the drinks we poured down our throats and the memories I wish weren't so rude and that I would have allowed them to be more than they are forever, at that point. I wish I watched more intently the way your lips turned to smiles and the way your eyes caught mine, but my fingers were bleached white, and peroxide was all too familiar that early summer. And I just made that trip back up to Michigan from roundabouts near your pseudo-more-than-recent-hometown, but not knowing why the hell I was back here, and not knowing you'd been there all the damn fucking while. The way your touch came close to blistering my pores, and the smell of you that lingered in my hair and clothes for days, since I didn't care much for appearances, not to negate that's changed today. Not the superfluous things, those are just that. Superfluous, at best, and better left at the back of my mindset.

He stood six foot three in a tree-covered driveway I always got lost trying to reach. I found his number from years ago, tattooed on little pieces of paper that wrinkled their way into places I forgot I even knew about. That number no longer works, and the new digits make even less sense. The area code is jumbled the fuck around, hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of miles drowned the fuck down south.

I played finders keeper with that boy, in grocery aisles and behind creaky doors. But I found something I couldn't keep, and we both lost more than clothes in that exchange, but not for another numerous amount of months before we realized what really occurred. And now today? isn't a brand new start, and I'm wishing to go back to a time I tried so hard to disintegrate into little remnants that could never touch each other again, not in a way that made sense, not in a way I'd have to do something other than pretend, not in a way I'd have to remember those days, but more the nights. But now I wish so Hard I could go back. So it would be us, and we would be what we were suppose to be, even though I tried so hard to NOT all of it.