barfly

i'm just a barfly, baby, uh huh.

we talked about him last night.


we went out for pizza, knocked back some wine and relived our forever love like it's always been. we bought a cheap bottle of wine and sat on my back porch with a mexican blanket and finished it off in coffee mugs. life is right, more so when we're together.


and we talked about him again.
it's weird, though, you know?

it's like:
i never knew she didn't know everything that happened between us,
because they knew everything about each other
and sheandi know everything about each other,
and i've been talking to a dead man for almost two years now.
fuck.
"i yell at him sometimes, i hope you don't mind..."
"you should, i do, he deserves it," she said back.
"good," i though, "because god dammit..... god dammit all."
i couldn't talk to anyone else about her the way i talked to him about her...
because we both love her so much...
always so much care when we talked about how much we adored her...
"he adored you," she said; something i never knew.
"i was always completely enamored with him... it was always so hard when he disappeared..." she knew. we're both so fucking passionate, and so was he. we were the goddamned holy trinity on earth, and i don't know who's the "father" or the "son" but now i guess he's the holy spirit.

i still yell at him all the time.

we used to tell ghost stories when we were little,
and she always told the best ones that would keep us up all night
and now we're twenty-two and nothing's changed
except our ghosts are real this time.