"I had a conversation with the Universe," He said to me, underneath the voices of many on the crowded bar patio, twinkling with lights and lit beer signs. My friend and I had stopped in that night after work. I wanted no more than one drink. The weekends rarely leave room to think in this place, but something inside of me said to wait, and so we ended up in a conversation with two easy-going men. They were visiting our mountain town for a reunion with a group of their friends. They had come to the bar to get away, get a drink, and instead we sat around the table outside chain-smoking and having a good time, until their friend showed up to take them back to the guys.
This is my profession. I have turned taking care of you and your family into an art, an act that requires more than a little heart, moving beyond delivering your food and remembering what you like to drink, to deducing what your needs will be, simply by what you ordered and your personality, I'll know before you even know you need them yourself.
"Who are you?" He asked me amid the sport, and I looked down into his eyes from straddling his lap. We had already been in his bed for several minutes, and been introduced not many more of them before...his question was curious, What does he mean?His eyes were deep and held caution, licking the words right from my tongue, swallowing them whole. His lean but muscular body flexed beneath mine, fighting against the desire to devour, sweat lying shamelessly on his naked, woolly breast. His steady grip around my small biceps, as if firmly holding me away from falling down a rabbit hole.
I thought of you today, and it was the first time you have walked through my mind in years. Why? I'd put you in a dusty box in my mental attic, to heal and be free. Did I dust off the box? Or did I leave behind footprints in your mind that led you to me? However it works, that dusty box is open now and I'm left to sort through the memories. Memories that you've erased from your timeline and now the only way they exist is in my eyes and how frustrating and difficult that is when I put in so much time and shared with you my life...but I know that I'm to blame, because my eyes turned into lies towards the end of our demise, searching for some kind of revive, and I know that I really fucked you up in the heart.
Page 73 Peter, You've Become A Pirate