i would really like to taste your tongue
I would really like to taste your tongue, but I’m scared that you’ll run away. I don’t want you to run away. I know you’ll send me a text message that says, “I’m sorry, but I had to.” I’ll ask why and you won’t respond for two weeks. I don’t know where I will be when you respond. I would really like to taste your tongue and it becomes so easy to forget that you never wanted to taste mine. I brush my teeth morning and night, sometimes after lunch too. I brush my teeth, floss and pick at my gums. I don’t do this because I care about my teeth or gums, but because hygiene is just an excuse to bring people close. I think that’s the only reason anyone really cares. It’s not the reason you find me repulsive, though. I wish I knew the reason. I would really like to taste your tongue, but you’ve been away for a couple of weeks now and I’m certain you’ve found somebody with a longer, more put together tongue. Someone always has something more adept than someone else’s something. The world works in very interesting ways. Once, way before you even know I existed (but I knew about you), I saw you at some poetry reading. I thought there was something wrong with the shape of your head and I didn’t really understand the way your teeth fit the way they did. I liked the shirt you were wearing. The way you were wearing your shirt made me think that you were capable of being both the best and the worst human being. It’s both nice and unpleasant to know that I was was right on some level. I would really like to taste your tongue, but I don’t know if there’s much left I can do to make it happen.