Sunday, July 4, 2010

Mcdonald's tastes better in PG

I don’t know what it was but there was something beautiful about you last night.  Perhaps because you were wearing that shirt I picked out for you or your hair was soft and inviting from the wind ripping through it, or for once I got to meet your friends and see how much they loved you.  All I know is I didn’t want you to leave, wanted to share that queen-sized bed again only this time maybe you’d get under the covers with me and I’d accidentally scoot in close enough to touch your cheek with my fingertips.
You really shouldn’t fall asleep like that, laying on your back.  It’s too tempting to steal a kiss.  Or jump on your stomach, I’m fond of both.  But I didn’t and I think that just made me more anxious to be close to you, I’m not sure if you even noticed or if you were too busy looking at the classic cars and avoiding those flower veils I kept trying to put on you.
I wasn’t entirely honest about the dream I had during that nap.  My favorite part wasn’t the large jewelry or the ancient world with it’s warrior princess my subconscious cooked up.  It was you.  So yeah, sorry for the impromptu visit and sorry it's after midnight but I just needed to see you one last time in this 24 hour span.  I know I said it was because Mcdonald’s tastes better in PG, but it doesn’t.  I just wanted you to lean over my shoulder and let me rest my hand on your cheek one more time.

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