You're Mine

I wish I could see you tonight.

I wish I could bring you home and have you sprawl on the only proper couch in our living room. You would take a selfie while I was preparing our drinks and you'd play some of your music (because you hate mine) and we'd smoke a lot and then we'd get drunk, no, tipsy, and after a couple of hours you'd start to lie your head back on the couch and sing and rap and that's the sign for me that you're finally drunk. Though the truth is, it's hard for me to tell when you are really drunk because you always seem to be in control all the time. I tried to tell you that the last time you were here but I got sidetracked. You always could distract me, you know.

And it's really strange because we've met so many times already but we haven't had sex yet. Over the years I've met many guys, and we always ended up doing it, one way or another. When I bring you home, we just talk, that's all. And that's very strange, in my book. Well maybe I'd hug you before you leave and always, always you'd find a reason to untangle yourself from my arms and the next thing I know you're already outside the door, impatient to go. I enjoy those brief moments that I have you in my arms, you know. I enjoy them very much. Something about them just feels right somehow.

I often wonder what we are, you know. Although I think that from your actions that it never had been a question for you. I'm just a friend, that's all. A friend you have been spending a considerable part of your time with lately. A friend you can talk to about your interests because I share them. A friend, like you said, who has at least a semblance of depth.

I knew that at first, I was rushing us into a romantic direction. I kept dropping hints left and right. I kept baiting you. Well, it's because that is what I am looking for now. I'm looking for a boyfriend. But after a while, I kinda mellowed out since you were not responding. At first I thought that you were just not that way. You were not romantic. You were not sentimental. While I am the King of Melodrama (like you said). That got me really worried at first because we were too different and I knew we'd get in trouble sooner or later.

But I took all of that in stride and I adapted. I followed your advice. You've always said that I tend to overcomplicate things so I won't think about it anymore. At least, not very much. I'd take whatever happens. To us.

I remember that time when we were at home and I moved much closer to you than usual. And the next thing I knew I was holding your hand. I half-expected that you'd pull it away but you didn't. And I wanted to kiss you right then and there but it was really late and your Mom was calling you and it was time for you to go.

It isn't always like that though. Not all of our nights were great. Some nights I walk home asking myself why I even bothered seeing you. Especially when you get to ignoring me much more than usual. Or when your actions are much more confusing than usual. But somehow, the next time you text or call me, all is hastily forgiven and I'd be ready to go.

Sometimes I think that we're both playing this game where the one who falls for the other first loses. And it is obvious that I am in much greater danger of losing than you are. But then, the possibility of losing doesn't faze me anymore. That doesn't matter much really. I'm not playing this game to win your hand. I'm playing it just to be with you.

Sometimes I wish I could just let go, you know. That we could just both let go and be done with these safety nets and walls. I wish I could tell you these things when you are here, preferably in my arms, with you leaning on me. With the dim yellow lights and a suitably slow song playing warmly washing over us. I wish I could whisper in your ear: "I just wanna say you're mine, you're mine. Fuck what you heard, you're mine, you're mine. I just wanna say you're mine, you're mine..."

But tonight you're not here. So for now, I'd just sing to myself while sitting in your couch, wishing that I could see you tonight.