Lol : Language of Love

Between white hot laconic sleepy text messages in the middle of the night is where I buried how much I liked/ cared for you because that's where I couldn't get hurt. In the suspended sleepy state of knowing I had tarea and the hidden urges that begged a distraction to take me away from it. Knowing that some part of you thought I was alright as that was the part of you I had spent our last stolen moment with, because you were the only one I knew that was still up at this hour. Wanting to remind you of that late night drunken affair, but afraid that same part of you that loved me was the part of yourself you were most afraid of and that was why you hadn't brought yourself to come and "chill" with me in a month. Scared the maricon that had brought us together in a night of forgotten passion would seize you again at the sight of me. And I, between many pendejos y personajes teribles chose to forget their faces because the only one worth holding on to had slipped through my fingers before I truly had it. Wishing so badly to sing you my heart song and managing only to choke out a text message about making bail, i.e. graduation, as to say "we're running out of time." and you reciprocate just enough to make me try to hold out. A gay expression of inner desire; and little wannabe boriqua moreno read way too far into things. "I miss you more than my pride will let me admit," is all that I got from your sweetly short: "Lol." *sigh*