Do you remember the night we met? I barely can. I was
hammered drunk, basically broke except for a twenty peso bill that was going to
take me home. I spent it on a pack of cigarettes instead just to have a reason
to talk (and slur the words) to you a little longer. Yeah, I bet you didn’t
know that until now. That was the best twenty pesos I’ve ever spent in my life.
It didn’t take me home though, because you did.
It’s been half a year and I’m thinking if I made right
decisions. I’m at another Monday of my life and still waiting for it to be a
Lazy Sunday again. What if I didn’t blow off training to go drinking with my
friends? What if I just went straight home? What if my equally drunk friend
didn’t ask you for a cigarette? You wouldn’t even tell me your name at first.
“It’s for you to know and me to make up” is what you said. You thought that was
mysterious. I thought you were being an ass.
I found myself wrapped in your sheets on a daily basis,
never noticing the perpetual stack of plates that were always in the kitchen sink
until a week ago. I memorize the curve of your back, how your ribs slope
gently, landing on your perfect bones. I was smitten by how your hands crawl on
my legs, my sides and at the back of my neck. You touch my face and tell me
lines like you were rehearsing in front of a mirror for a big performance.
I’d like to think that we had something more than what
happens in locked rooms.
What I’m trying to say is, all I want is a life with you and
Sunday mornings in bed. I want to wake up knowing that you’re there. I’m sick
of reaching over to your side and be greeted by a cold pillow that used to be
where you rest your head the night before. I want to fill in the blanks where
you can’t and pretend not to know answers to complicated questions so I leave
them for you to figure out. I can’t wait to press my lips on your arm and bite
your shirt, sink into your skin.
This is not a letter of desperation,
this is a wake-up call. Sunday comes before you know it and I’ll have a space for
you on my bed, between the sheets, under my blue night light, against my lips,
if you’ll have it.
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