Dried Vaseline

He makes me smile like I’ve never before, and cry like I’d never want to again.

There was a flash; a moment of panic, I started to sweat profoundly, a strong eye contact, and awkwardly we went our way; didn’t dare to look back. My Vaseline dried lips felt his badly shaved cheek – we froze – it felt like forever; but it was a second or maybe less. He was putting his arm around my shoulder to say something before leaving, I thought he was hugging me, before leaving. My lips were pricked by his beard and  he moved to introduce his cheek to my lips as we turned; I kissed his cheek in the confusion and we’d turned around in a circle. My toes curled, his pupils looked dilated (probably the greens); I smelt his hair, neck, and face.


For a second, I was in my wildest fantasy: roaring waterfall behind us, standing waist deep in the pleasant river stream, wearing just the fresh water and staring into his brown eyes. Insect buzzed and a bird with a peculiarly, pleasant voice chirped, from the wet rain forest, that was all around us. I ran my fingers through his hair, my palm ruffled his beard, my lips started at his fore-head and ended at the back of his neck… The taste of his face is still on my lips, I rolled it in and licked it, tasted him. If only I knew this was the start of the end.


I touch people’s hair all the time, but never realized I touched him a lot too, or that it makes him uncomfortable. He yelled at me and I was scared, but I stopped touching people’s hair. It might have been necessary or the right thing to do; I don’t know. He gets angry, very easily; it’s scary, and makes me cry each and every-time he yells at me, or says something rude. If only he knew.

We’ve fought way too much and I don’t like the fighting, can’t handle it.


The cigarette smoke still lingered around his mouth and breath, he slept right next to me, we knew each other, but not enough. It felt safe, but it only lasted for an hour; my dementors came back howling, over-powered me and you -my happy memory- and I didn’t sleep the rest of the night. Watched you sleep then I creeped myself, so walked away to sit in living room and contemplate life like many teenagers at three (3) am.

He woke up constantly, there were too many breaks in his sleep and he was getting cranky while rolling around in the bed. I went back and he wasn’t even awake just uncomfortable in his sleep; I laid next to him and patted his head, stroked his hair and fell asleep next to him.

Woke up and he played music, made breakfast and made a mess out of the kitchen, that I had to clean. He sprayed his favourite deodorant, the one his ex loved and wore one of her shirts, because he looked better in it.

He doesn’t want me, at least not when he’s sober, and when he’s not, there are way too many rules and conditions. When drunk he wants to be touched, told he’s worthy of love, that he’s desirable and deserves to be loved unconditionally, because that’s what I want. But he doesn’t WANT me, not like I want him.

I need to pull my shit together and not let it get to my head.

I watch him talk to me or someone else, play with his hair, chew his food funnily, drink his tea like a fifty year old man on his way back to work. Makes a weird face that makes his cute little nose look like its in a knot and I fall for him all over again.


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