One October night when I was a little bit drunk (and by a little bit I mean I was hammered because my friend Steve and I kept taking “secret” Jaegerbombs at a gay club), the boy took this video of he and I in his kitchen at like 4am. It’s still on my phone. He’s basically telling the camera how perfect my ass is and I am giggling, incoherently babbling with my head pressed against his shoulder.
I listened to it tonight because I miss his voice so much. I can still hear him whispering my name in my ear. I have the hitch of his breath memorised and the palm of his hand tattooed on my ass (not literally, people, damn! That would be incredibly stupid, getting an ass tattoo for a boy!). But I haven’t actually heard his voice in months.
I hear his voice and it’s calling me home. I can hear his lips meet mine in one of those sticky, sloppy drunken kisses where you try to push forward as much passion as possible into the other person’s mouth . And I know that this has taught me that I can live without him, I just would prefer not to.
I’m so ready to be in his arms again. I’m ready to light up when his voice calls me from the kitchen, instead of through an old video. I’m ready.