November 20, 2020/ Last updated : November 19, 2020HG TudorHoovering
Can you hear me knocking? Open the door and let me in? I know you want to. It is only me. You know me. You know me better than anybody else. Come on, I know you are thinking about me. That is what happens. I am on your mind and in your thoughts. I am whirling around in that messed-up mind of yours. It is messed up. I didn’t do it. I didn’t do anything wrong. I never do. It was a real state before I even appeared. I just took advantage. But look, that is in the past and we don’t need to talk about the past (expect I suppose when it suits me). I know you want to hear my voice again don’t you? You miss hearing me. You miss those long conversations on the telephone that we used to have, two hours or more where there was never a lull. I know you remember them. I know you keep looking at your ‘phone hoping that it will ring and that it will be me. I know you feel a phantom buzz when you have stashed your phone on your person and you keep pulling it from your pocket and checking. You tell your friends that your mother needs to speak to you, just so they won’t groan or roll their eyes at you for wanting it to be me. I know you are itching to call me. Go on, why don’t you? You can speak to me again and it will be just like before, all of the wonderful stuff. I will reinstate it in an instant because look, I have had a lot on, I have been tired, I have been worried and so on and so forth blah blah blah. I will trot anything out because once you see me smiling at you, you won’t be listening any more.
No, you will be thinking back to that kiss as we stood in that park with the sound of the breeze through the autumnal trees. That first kiss after the days of flirting through text and call. That magical, marvellous, mesmeric kiss. The first of a million. One in a million. I know you close your eyes and stand in that park and allow yourself to be taken back to that time a year ago. That day when we both drove there and met beneath the towering trees, the September sunshine still warm and I stood there, my magnetic smile on display as you half-ran towards me and I took you in my arms and then we kissed. Imagine doing that again? Oh you have of course. A thousand times.
Send me a text. You may as well. I will answer you and I will put a kiss on the end, just to tempt you. I know your heart will surge when you see that and all thoughts of staying away from me will begin to evaporate on seeing that. Text me. Just one text. It is easy enough. I know you haven’t deleted my number despite the promises you have made to do so. You just could not bring yourself to do it.
Call me. Ring me up and tell me what a bastard I am. Go on. Unleash that anger. Let it out. How many times have you sobbed to your friends about what I did to you? What a cruel and heartless bastard I am. I do not deserve you do I? No, but I deserve being told what I have done to you. You need to get it off your chest don’t you? You should. Go on, just press that button and I will answer you and you can let rip at me. Hey, even better, why not suggest we meet up and then you can have that show down that you have always envisaged. I know you have thought through all the things you have wanted to say to me but feel that I prevented you from saying when I just disappeared and then ignored your frantic attempts to get in touch with me. Tell me how broken I left you. Tell me how your friends hate me too. Tell me how your brother is going to batter me. Go on, I know that anger is still raging through you and you need to let it out. Surely after everything you have put up with you are entitled to one last hurrah?
Make that call late at night. I know you are lying in the dark thinking about me, hands entwined around the shirt I left which still smells of my scent. You know you ought to throw it away or burn it but you just cannot do it can you? You still want that connection. You still want to be able to inhale my fragrance and somehow relish the agonised joy as your mind is flooded with my memory. It is a lonely place now that bed isn’t it? Why not send me a text and we can exchange some saucy messages? Rekindle that fire again. It will make you feel better. I might even be tempted to come and see you and take you in your bed once again and let you experience the magic that I possess. The sex was brilliant wasn’t it? I know you cannot lie about that. I have heard what you have said to people about how you hate me but the sex was off the charts. Let’s do it again. Why not? It will make you feel so much better. Just text me, ring me, message me. You just have to reach out because I know you are dying to.
You may as well flick through those pictures again and smile with regret and longing as they evoke all those momentous times from when we were happy together. So many pictures, so many smiles. Have a look at my Facebook profile again. I did not block you. I would not do that. I want you to see how I am doing. Those messages are for you by the way. I am sure that the cryptic comments that I have posted with those pictures will have been picked up on by you and considered and reflected on. Those were for you. I wanted you to know how much I am missing you and you need your daily fix of stalking my social media. Yes, there was somebody else and I know you will have seen and been distraught to know that she was now receiving my love, my perfect love. How that must have burned inside of you as you realised that somebody else was now the recipient. I knew you would but don’t worry, she isn’t a patch on you so why don’t you come and see me and we can start it all again. I know you want to.
Come and see me. Help me. You are the only one who truly knows me. You know more about me than anybody else. The others, huh, they meant nothing to me. They were aberrations but you, you are the real deal. I love you still. I always have. Just come and see me and I will prove it to you. I will make the changes you want me to do and I know you believe in me. You see the good in me don’t you, you are the one who can let it out and help me. Please help me. I just need to be fixed and you are the one with the tools to do it. There is only you. Please don’t let me down. I need you. I will change. I will be better. I promise. Just come and see me and give me the chance to show you. That is only fair isn’t it? You are a fair person, I know you are, that is why I love you so much.
Come on, just get in touch with me and all this pain can go away. There is no need for it. You just need to press those buttons, dial that number or best of all just turn up. Imagine how romantic it will be. You turning up unexpectedly (but not really) in the rain and I sweep you into my arms again and everything will be good and golden and great once again. Do it. Do it. Give me the dressing down. Come to bed with me. Kiss me again. Tell me how you feel. Offer me forgiveness. Let me know what has happened to you. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Do it. Do it. Get in touch. Reach out. Stop the pain. End the hurt. Bring back the joy. Resurrect us. Ignite the passion. Let love reign. Do it. You can do it. I believe in you. End this agony. Let it go. Berate me. Love me. Chastise me. Fuck me. Hate me. Contact me. Contact me. Contact me.
I can hear my ‘phone ringing.
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