Hi guys! I’m drunkish. I wrote a thing. Here it is:
When she left the pub and went home that night, her head was full of lovers. Old lovers, tethered to her by fond memories. New lovers, their smells fresh and unknown. Lover that had come, and lovers that persisted. Lovers that might’ve been but never were, lovers that never could’ve been. Lovers for a short time, for a long time, for a lifetime.
Lovers in t-shirts, in suits, in skirts, in sequined dressers. Lovers in glasses and high heels and torn jeans and not a thread on their bodies. Lovers in makeup, in beards, in uncut hair, in tweezed eyebrows. Lovers in long hair and short hair and no hair and purple hair. Lovers whose orientation made them never want her, and lovers who assumed, wrongly, that her orientation made her not want them. Pretty lovers, handsome lovers, geeky lovers, awkward lovers. She thought of lovers she hadn’t met yet, of what their skin would feel like under her fingertips. Lovers who wanted to fuck, who wanted to cuddle, who just wanted to talk.
Music filled her ears and she closed her eyes to the outer world, let the train rock her into feeling drunker than she really was Let the music make her body move, let her body moving make her head a messy, spinning place full of lyrics and lovers and smiles and not much more.
As she got off the train she thought of lovers. Old lovers, new lovers, lovers she hadn’t met yet. Lovers to fuck, lovers to cuddle, lovers to talk the night away with. Lovers to stand with on the train home and think about lovers…
Now I’m going to bed. G’night!