Say it works out, and you electroshock my memory back into motion, and I remember how to love you in all the ways that someone should be loved, will you love me back?
I’m in love with its realness.
When I finally meet you, will I remember how to love you? I think, somewhere in the last–what is it now? Almost 4 years?–of being mostly alone, or at least not in love, maybe I forgot what you’re supposed to do when you are in love. For instance, will I remember how to pull my limbs in from my nightly spread eagle in bed, and not hate you for taking up half the space that has, for so long, been mine, ALL MINE, GOD DAMNIT?
Will I remember how to lie awake on Sunday morning while you sleep, counting the freckles that pepper your back? Will I remember how to care about all the boring, stupid minutiae of your job, and I don’t mean just pretend to care, but actually, genuinely give a shit when you call me up to tell me how your boss did so and so and…
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