the none that got away
And I mean love of any sort. Even my girl friends and family. Nothing fills me for very long. And I receive more than a small amount of expressions of love in a day, as receipt for the more-than-a-small amount of expressions of love I *make* in a day.
But with romance it's a little different. I'm not fully in control of when I'm going to need to look for something new. I'm not fully in control of who will receive my love, or who will offer theirs.
It's tiresome to this baby girl inside me to have to allow love to come, and then heal myself when it goes.
Some days I triumphantly look at the vastness of my opportunities and I soar across them with glee.
I'm leaving you for every other man in the world
Other days I feel so impotent amongst the pulsing, obscured pit of men with "R I S K" written in vanishing ink on thier forheads.
So I dream about people who left me out here alone, and how unfair it is that they're gone.
I don't want a new man. I don't want to learn a new body. I don't want to adjust to a new style. I don't want to memorize a new face. I don't want to inhale a new scent. I don't want to taste a new tongue. I don't want to feel new arms. I don't want to anticipate new routines. I don't want to laugh at new jokes. I don't want to compromise for new habits. I don't want to assimilate new interests. I don't want to answer to a new title. I don't want to add to my [kissing|leaving|losing|rejected|____] tally.
I just want something I already know. Something already tried and tested and trusted.
But there's not one of those.
There's none that got away.
