life would be so much easier if my brain stopped talking

I finally saw him again last night. It had been... almost two weeks? Since I've seen him. Well, you know, I've *seen* him, with my *eyes*, but since we shared our peaceful camaraderie. I didn't realize how much I missed it until we were together. About an hour in, we were playing pool, and he cracked some joke and I laughed, finally, so hard I couldn't shoot, and he goes "Thank God! You know, that's the first smile you've cracked all night," and I didn't want to tell him that it was the first I cracked all day.

It was good. All we talked about was bullshit, thank god, because sometimes he slips in the most ridiculous thoughtful crap that I don't want to talk about, but mainly it was making jokes about each other and him telling me the history of punk/pre-grunge while he played examples on the jukebox and we both chained smoke, as usual. I went into the whole situation in a pissy mood, wanting to be angry at him (which, I didn't realize I was until I saw him, I told myself I was just busy, but I think in the end I was angry with him), and coming out of it totally relaxed.

I felt good and un-conflicted, for once. I got a good-night hug and that was that. And I was totally ok with it.

And then I tried to sleep. And the dreams started. And I don't know where we were (as if it mattered), but he was leaving, for somewhere, and I was saying goodbye. 'I just want to touch your face,' I said, and I took it and cradled it in between my hands, staring at him. And he kissed me, and he held me so tight and I began to cry. He kissed my face and I kept crying. I was overcome with sadness and longing like I haven't experienced in a long time.

And I woke up, and the last vestige of those feelings are still coiled tightly about my body like tendrils of morning glory, the full blooms shying away from the changing afternoon sun, but the vines still wrapped around my skin. And no matter how many times I tell myself to shake off the residue left by dreams, crazed landscapes of the subconscious, all I can think about is the how sweetly we touched each other's faces.

I refuse to confuse loneliness for a need for his affection. It's bad timing and it wouldn't end well.