Ocean Eyes

You were right here. I can still feel the warmth in the sheets, the dust made by your skin, the one strain of hair lying on the bedside floor, the sweaty affection in the wrinkles of the pillows, that honestly are far too many compared to that of an average Jane. The number of pillows is pointless, because you...were...right...here. But 'were' became 'aren't'. It became "never again".
Right person, wrong time.
Wrong time to fall for me, wrong time for walls to fall, to be knocked down the same way I was knocked down, by one call on a Friday night that was hopeful up until 8:30pm of a warm September. Its warmth, promising, cooking up for the sunny Saturday ahead of us. But that future now erased by the Friday night darkness, a darkness that creeped in, anounced by the ringtone of that call.
Right person, wrong love.
Not a love meant to be grown in your locked up chest. A chest with no key, with no map where x marks the spot, with no code to tinker with and crack, no leverage to kick it open.
One, two, ten things I needed in a man. One, two, twenty things you have in one man. But that man, no longer mine. One, two, ten things you needed in a woman. One, two, thirty things I had as a woman. But this woman out of reach by your fears, thoughts and an unfamiliar reason like a puzzle without a box.
Right person, for what time then? For when? For tomorrow? For a month's time? For after the divorce with that blond young actress, from that dumb short movie, on a muddy hot summer, shown in a small local theater?
Right person, not in time.
Not in time to let you let love in. Let you allow me to wreck it all down, and build from scratch ignoring the trauma, loneliness and DIY way of going through life you made your peace with.
 I'll soak in the darkness, I'm used to it, I'll deflect it right off of our passion. I'll guard you from the demons, you have the same ones I had, the ones I've slayed many times before when they crawled in and out of me every single day. I'll pierce through the cold armor that you carry in order to not...let...me...in. Let me in. Let me in.
Right person, is the wrong person if its not the right time.
Denial. I deny that. I deny that thanks to the memories of your ocean eyes, thanks to the melody of your quiet singing, the depth of the way you penetrated me, physically, emotionally, spiritually, transcendentally. Two aliens in a human space.
With you, there was no time, there was no space. There was no time.
The clock, just an overpriced accessory. The calendar, just a piece of paper. The phone, an unnecessary portal to the world outside of you, me and the gray couch. Maybe the cat as well.
That couch, our spaceship in a parallel universe that only you and I had access to, carrying our hopes, thoughts and dreams from your mind to mine, from my mind to yours. An adventure not to be feared, only excitement and a torch guiding me through the depths of your soul. How slow was time on that couch. How still was my flesh, how quiet my breath, all in order to take in every frame of this picture.  Every vibration from your vocal chords. My hands sliding down your cheeks, jaw, and neck, memorizing the way you make my stomach turn. My eyes holding back your stare, that captures my monkey mind like a hunter seeking prey. I was, am and will forever be your prey. You have me. You have me, but don't want me. I want you, but dont have you.
I deny. I fight the reality that you...aren't...here. I fight the reality that you...will never again...be here. I pour into the universe the future where you'll...be...right...here. Tomorrow. In one months time. Before you meet the young blond actress. The table is set for two, because you will be here, once again.