Thoughts on you

First you said „drunk sex is better sex“

and I wondered

The evening got darker around us, black liquid sky dropped down to earth and cuddled us in

the warmth of your jacket and the spanish beer was better than a hot summer day

we haven't seen much of summer till now, did we?

We played thas ridiculous funny game: running, drinking, swearing.

You know you become a different person when you drink?

The shy girl steps back to let the grown woman sit down in her room, roll a joint and tell me of her first lover.

You are disgusted as you inhale

your eyes got dark

exhale, sigh

I wonder if I still know you

Actually, since we were some months old.

and although I moved to the city, coming to your parents house always feels a bit like coming home

Now you seem completely different

I feel as if our roles swapped

No longer am I the experienced and bitter, sometimes slightly mean counterpart of you

but nowI sit beside you, gazing at the glowing end,

trying to order my besotted thoughts with force

only it makes them float away like the smoke

You spit into the bucket

We lay down, lights low, heads on the pillow and staring at each other

I hope you did not see the sceptical furrow on my forehad.

Again I feel like a 6-year-old

not as someone who turns 18 next year, just some months after you will

Thinking back on what you said earlier, I feel bad for you

Through your hard surface pass the words of the unhappy, I know the sound

He was 19, your parents already got to know gim, you don't even like him much

“what a night then“, I joke

you giggle but carry on to look disgusted, perhaps traumatised with uncomfortable memories

“I don't like being touched, don't like body contact overall“

„I know“, I answer, because well it's been like this ever since

we both dislike the hugging at every occasion, practised by so many but suddenly

Your lack of joy concerns me, for I've been craving intimacy for some time now.

But in the end

We do it, because that's what everbody does.

I dislike being high. I could have been a better friend when sober, though most certainly you wouldn't have told me any of this.

Again: you split yourself. By now I'm sure you are aware.

- „Maybe you're wired differntly“, I mumble, avoiding „wrong“

- „Maybe“, you say

we both smile, guessing each others minds.

- „Not everyone likes sex, no one must“ I begin to proclaim

A try, atleast, on explaining asexuality high.

- „But I couldn't tell my father“

That's your first thought?

Your father looks and behaves like a German Martin Freeman, nice, ordinary, humorous. He likes motorcycles and gardening.

- „You'll figure it out“

I could have said better, should have. I hate being high. Being out of control.

You lost control a while ago. hope you catch up again

Today as I write this, I wonder if we'll ever figure it out together. Some of it, all of it.

Eventually you would come to me in other than drugged April's nights.