I recall channeling my passion for writing into creating rhymes and melodies for producers. That quickly went nowhere. Some things are more fun left as hobbies. I need to go through my closet. The weather is changing and the temperature is more appropriate for long sleeves and sweaters. I find a stack of sweaters buried deep in the back of the highest shelve. My eyes are drawn to the bright yellow Kennesaw letters on the grey sweater in the middle of the stack. I haven’t spoken to ******* in a while... I decide to text him. “Hey, do you want your sweater...” I send the text along with a picture. I'm sure he has memories tied to this sweater so I want to ask if he wants it's respectfully before I throw it away. He replies hours later. “yea...sure” I respond "Ok let me know when you are free. Sunday or Monday after 6 would be best." He doesn't respond... Three days later I text again “let me know...” he replies my bad Sunday should work I fly back in town Saturday night. Sunday comes and goes and no word from him. I don't text him. As always he has a lot on his plate. On Wednesday I get a text ...he’s apologetic. He’s been busy but now he’s free. He decides to meet me around 6:30. I look down consciously, I'm wearing an old dark blue Club Monaco button-down, straight cut light blue jeans, and my white Air Max 97s. I'm not wearing my all-black poetic justice monologue that comes across as New York style like usual. I actually like what I have on today. I stare in the mirror and wonder. He texts me “Do you wanna get a drink?” Sure... I look nice today why not. I suggest Blue Moon around the corner. A dim-lit low-key bar not too far from here. We arrive. I grab the door first but walk in first because I know he wouldn’t want me to hold it for him. We find two seats on the shorter side of the bar perfectly awaiting us. I order a pineapple and tequila. He orders a dirty martini with olives. Our orders have changed over time. We use to both order old fashions. At the bar he faces me. I face forward. I cross my legs leaning towards him. His energy is warming. I rarely have his full attention. We talked about family and work I’m so proud of him and his accomplishments. He tells me how proud he is of me too and it feels good to hear someone say it. I ask him "are you someone's boyfriend?" He breaks eye contact and responds "yea... but I don't see long term" He quickly changes the subject and shares his growing distaste for his family his mother included. I remind him of a time back when he wasn’t making 6 figures, I was young and impatient, and his mother was his only support system. I see the past rolling behind his eyes as if he had forgotten or perhaps he packed those memories deep down in a dark place. He grabs my ankle with his hand. Luckily there’s a Calvin Klein sock in between his skin and mine and it’s not as electric as I expect. I cup his knee and rub it gently. After our magical spontaneous date night, he took my hand and held it the entire way to my home. He kisses the back of my hand gently. He circled my block twice and when he finally stopped in front of my apartment, he leaned in and we kissed ever so softly. The way that I love. Not like the last time, I tried throwing myself on him and he was shoving his tongue down my throat. I hate lust and emotionless passion.. this kiss was much sweeter. This kiss felt like love. After I went up to my beautiful Buckhead apartment. I calmly lit a nag champa incense. I turned on the shower, sat under the downpouring of hot water, and started to sob until I no longer felt anything.
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