i dreamed of you. very early this morning. in my dream, it was summertime. back when we were seventeen. I phoned you. at home. your mom answered the phone. said you were at football practice. i asked her to tell you that Elle had called. she said she would… (and then i woke up).
i always wake up before you call… (just like real life).
There really is no rhyme or reason when it comes to you. For instance, why am I thinking about you again today? What exactly is it that started this ball rolling again?
And, let’s be honest. I want you. And not in the “friend” way– but in the worst way. And, I don’t really just want to sip a beer with you. I want to smell the beer on your breath, and taste the beer on your lips.
F*ck– I want to inhale all of you. To know if you can keep pace with me. If you can satisfy me. If you like me better on my back, or on my knees…
Is bragging a sin? …’cause I’m diggin’ my new Catholic-high-school-girl themed header.
Brings back such dreamy memories. I can practically smell the football field…
(not to mention the fact that I’m getting a titty-hard-on just thinking about my sixteen-year-old boyfriend’s hands groping me in the stairwell just north of the auditorium; one slim, neatly rolled joint pinned to the inside hem of my skirt)
Yep, just like mom and dad used to say– best years of my life.
And as usual– when I’m really sick– I’ve been having weird dreams.
Take last night for example– I dreamt I was in bed with Michael Douglas (having sex for christ’s sake). And yes, I woke up smiling like Katherine Zeta Jones (if you must know)… but ewwww, and ohmygod, Michael Douglas!?… super creepy.
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Mister, Mister, dreaming | Tagged: lost love, Mister, Mister, dreaming | 
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Posted by Contessa Confessa
