He'd be there to celebrate; on every holiday, every special occasion. Everybody cheering, laughing and embracing the moments spent. I loved how everyone around me liked him as much as I did. Wherever we would go they'd ask for him too, we had to make sure he was always there. Take him on road trips, sneak him into school, sneak him into the cinemas, take him to every party and introduce him to everyone. We would even cancel other plans for him. I don't know what it was but, I thought I was addicted, indulging in the pleasures of the world, lost in the fantasy he had me in when we were together. Not a care in the world, even if it was just for the moment, it was our moments.
The way he could be ice cold against my lips and drip down my body, or be warm; with an intoxicating smile. I would accommodate him, whatever the case would be, I was always right next to him, he was right next to me. Sometimes I would wake up and find him, just there.. have me craving him when I was alone, when i had company, when we were bored or even entertained, we love his company. When he wasnt available we would make a plan to find him, invest having him as company. Even those who never started off liking him, would eventually warm up to his charm, entertain his presence and indulge in the humour that was him.
He approached me with a message, a message he has never told me. He's left me looking for this message, everytime we are together, he doesnt seem to share the message. Then, when its all set and done, like everything else in life, he leaves me; hurting, wounded, sick, never wanting to see him again. He leaves me with fevers, sweating, heavy heart beat, thirsty for more... or is it thirst for nothing at all? He leaves me wondering if the message is really worth seeking. Then... when I accept his absence, and I am back on my feet, he comes back, tempting, convincing, placing more curiosity about that message that has never been shared, never been found, never been told, still uncertain if it even exists.
He is a bad love, a destructive habit, an expensive relationship; time consuming, is it worth it? Why can't I go without that cold touch on my lips, the feel when i grabbed his neck, the dripping down the side of my mouth, the smell... the intoxication.. left wondering if Pierre even did send the message or will it forever be an empty bottle?!
