You do this awkward touch with fingers to tell me my face is dirty, it’s pretty embarrassing but I do just the same thing, we cozily admit, we just covered each other’s butt. I hate to say you want everything I have and I want to smell and own your bottle of perfume. I want your messed up hair, and girl you can’t get your touchy hands out of my closet. You want my whispering voice just as much as I want your base, giggles moaned in every vowel, and how everything wraps up in my mind telling me I love you.

You say you hate me in person, you make me think I am such a bore. You are my worst lecturer and I know I really am to you too. It’s too much how you excite me and have all these mind blowing ideas in your cunning words that convince me trying one or two of them won’t hurt at all. You tell me this is the last time we collect that memory in the jar, we keep out of reach, but we go back to fill up, sometimes in tears and rarely in golden and joyful smiles and always in lessons we greedily keep so close to our hearts.

Oddly entertaining in all your squeaky sounds of a 3-year-old you jump up and down, pleading, if we don’t do this when we’re young what are we going to ever tell our kids were the major adventures we had? You transition me into a crazy journalist left to unveil stories, and inner thoughts of fantasies and I take liberty to add a few juicy tales to “our” ideas now. We hike through all of them, Lord knows I try to hide them from my self-image, but you friend, unlock my right to freedom.

Strangers, boyfriends, drama and the world, happen. I lose you. Ruthless truths take over. Thrills I don’t understand in their version, nightmares of a scary future happen. My new friends in need don’t remind me of the other time we owned the stars and the moon, how we dreamt of life at Pluto or Mars and made ourselves reach there recklessly in no aircraft and didn’t stop from there, and how about hell together? I dropped out of the lake of ideas the time I gave your awkward touch a look of disgust, in the eyes of a few fellas, who don’t understand the silence and pauses I give them when I am aching.

I am haunted, your perfume is a scent of a rainbow in my never ending mess. Yeah, cause maybe there in my closet you want me just as much. A tee shirt, a pink dress would pull me in closer to you just as much as I would with no utter of a word. You get it, you get in my mind, you read the words on my mouth when you wear my lipstick, the way I tell you I am sorry. I can’t cry but it helps me think more when I see you in the seasons I don’t want to be seen.

A friend in need? We don’t know how much we need or don’t need but I want to tell you, that if we can’t offer it to each other how others do, I really want to live on Mars with you now. I need that touch every now and then. I need to give shots at whatever you wanna lecture me about, I will be excitedly bored but, you remind me my innocence matches your winning idea.  Your predictable unpredictability, a natural way I understood us dancing every day is impossible, and just like that, when we get drowned in the perfection disease out there, I need you to inject me with your rather harmless sickness of your ugly beauty.

I don’t need a heartache to try out the deadly and never-heard-of recipes and remedies you sprinkle to my life, I need to try them right here, right now and forever. I need to feel laughter and sorrow, to get them married the way me and you can’t live without each and both of them. I need your magic to push me to see light when our numbered days are not yet numberless. A friend in need, is a friend indeed. And indeed, I have a nervous ball knotted in my belly, it just doesn’t feel right, if I don’t find you, when I need you that much.


The HandPain