doomed yuri coded

The day we left, when we were driving away, we watched an electrical fire block off the road. I barely remember shoving everything into your car and driving to the coast. It’s all a haze of dozens of empty white claw cans and a grossness in my own skin when I let the wrong people touch it. I think it burnt to a crisp, so I can never go back to that town again.

It’s a year I never thought I’d see and I’ve seen so much I wish I hadn’t. Sometimes I wish I never kissed you at all and we left everything even more unsaid, wondering if you noticed me flinch or blush or something I couldn’t see when you ran your hands through my hair. A pink and blue raccoon tail I half-assed together in that wood-trimmed room that always felt more like yours than it did mine. I still wish one of those nights you would have just burnt it all down and we could have left life like that, in the paranoid, lingering smell of weed the next morning, forever.

There’s always been a me and you. Chasing after you in a memory, an ambient scent of someone I don’t remember anymore. Against all odds I’ve learned what love is (it feels like her and the soft fur of two cats,) but I still don’t know what the hell to do with you. I think you feel something like early dawns alone after restless nights: waves of my body buffering and my heart washing out into always being on the verge of tears but never quite there. Waiting for an energy fluctuation between hope and despair.

It reminds me of you, holding me on the edge of an orgasm. I wish I didn’t feel so bad about wanting you to hold me. Thinking only thoughts of you taking over me. I can stay here for hours and hours like I stay in your bed. We never shared the twin bed once it was time to fall asleep, until that last time and never again. I bet I’m still convinced if I rot here long enough you’ll come and walk me over to eat an afternoon first meal of the day. But instead of asking for anything, I’ll put some more distance between us during a walk in the woods.