Conversations I wish I had

My hands traversed her thighs, she had tattoos. A lot of them. I had none and didn’t plan on getting one either.

“You’re pretty, you know.“

She doesn’t believe it. I wish I had told her more often how beautiful she was.

I wish I held her face and showered her with kisses.

We met during turbulent times. There to talk each other through it, using our own fucked up understanding of the world.

“I love you” — I wish I had said it more often. Did I even say it? I can’t remember.

I don’t know if it’s my lonely mind playing games on me. I just wish I’d been a better lover. I’ve always been the romantic type. I keep asking myself why wasn’t I that way with her?

Maybe, just maybe. I pushed her to the edge. (She was always one push away from losing it) But again, I too have a tendency to blame myself.

Everything happened so quickly. I was surrounded by chaos. It’s all a blur now.

I’m sorry you had to meet that version of mine. I’m a coward who can’t talk to you now. But I hope (or don’t) you read this.