“Because I always decide to drive to your house sometimes. It’s the perfect distance away, drivable yet far enough to make you feel enthralled. Far away enough for my roaming signal to blink on my cell phone that I purposely left in the car. And we were in your bed, your fingers behind my neck like they always used to be and we were making out like we always did. Talking about dumb and incredible things like time machines and better days. We could just lay there forever without a bother. Just tracing each others facial bones and listening to the music you liked and I had never heard. I liked you because you were polite (and a million other reasons.) You liked me because you thought I was pretty and I made you laugh. We could talk about things. We didn’t always have to be naked, even though a lot of the time we were. Things were intimate either way. Whether it was bare chest to bare chest or your fingers in my hair. I wanted you to know so many things I didn’t know how to say. They just melted in my mouth or disintegrated between my braces. It was like what happened last month didn’t matter. We would only talk about it for a second and then leave it behind. It was just an excuse to see you again anyway and you knew it and agreed and we told our friends it was just to talk about what’s happened but that part only lasted for that one second before we were on the floor and I had a pillow underneath my head and your legs around me. We laid there out of breath and smiling. Just like the clever couple we were and have always been. We make a good team, you’re the reasonable one and I’m the one who is mislead and starry eyed. Our chemicals agree. Everything was always natural and fantastic, your company made anything easier. My shakes went away and I never felt panicked. You were cool and poised and at those moments it rubbed off on me and felt like it was engraved. Only you could do these things to me. You left me bruised and bumpy one night and I cried because I had to. But I would take you over anything, over my cuts and calluses and over any other xy chromosome. And maybe a few times I scratched your skin and left you shaking cold but I’m sorry and at least after all those times we were laughing again. We didn’t stay pissed off and alone. There were always those parts that made us remember even though it burned. Those are the parts of me I love the most. The burn that I’ve grown so accustomed to like it was in my blood. I hope you love them too and I know you have then because you always come back. You always let me inside when I show up on those days. You always let me in.”

holes in my logic: We were just there one day.