Wishes. The broken variety.
I wish you weren't the one I thought of.
I wish you could have been there when I needed you. And I wish you could have seen my need before I was too afraid to ask. I wish you were by my side all those nights that I craved a body beside me, a warmth to get me through the darkness I faced alone. I wish you didn't expect me to ask for you to stay, when I couldn't have asked for any thing at all. I wish I hadn't wished that a pilot could love a cargo girl.
I wish my days didn't brighten all of a sudden when you started interacting with me again. I wish I didn't look forward to meeting you briefly from time to time. I wish you didn't make me smile, and laugh loudly like I do. I wish we didn't have inside stories, inside jokes, bike dog, and Mr. Bunbun, inside togetherness. I wish my phone didn't know what I was thinking when I typed Mr. I wish we didn't have the connection we did. I wish you weren't so easy to talk to, that our conversations didn't flow as easily as they do, that our laughs didn't come as fluidly. I wish I wasn't as open with you.
I wish you didn't know that when I said your beard was fine that I was playing it off. I wish you didn't know that I asked you questions because I appreciated your knowledge, and found it sexy as hell. I wish you couldn't teach me all the things I yearned to learn. I wish you knew I was kidding when I said you weren't as good looking as his son. I wish you knew.
I wish I hated seeing you when I opened the lunch room door. I wish I hated unloading and re-loading your planes. I wish I hated seeing your name in my inbox. I wish I hadn't have given my present back, but I'm glad you kept yours.
I wish I didn't know, just by the way you gazed at me, how much love there still was. And I wish it wasn't so obvious that I felt the same.







