mistaken identity

i posted this on another blog, in a semi-private way. c left me a message when he found out that he was blocked from reading, called me chicken. i think he thinks it was meant for him. it wasn't. it was for p.

remembering him softly

the way i would look at him
the way he called me gorgeous and sexy
they way he announced my arrival at every show
his shows. not mine.
the way he would tear up when he talked about his family
or music
or her
the little bounce that he would do when he was happy or excited
the scruff on his neck
the length of his cock
and how i died to take every inch and breath of him within me
the way i watched him walk away at the airport
and wanted so badly to run after him
to kiss him
to touch him as he had touched me
soul deep
his phone calls at 2 am
the first call he made after he was robbed
looking for his truck through every city street
the way it felt to leave him so far behind
and to be left by him ever since.

how is it, pie, that you're still breaking my heart?