In Which She Only Loves Me / Wants Me / Kisses Me /When She’s Drunk

we get drunk and kiss again.

her lover is in the corner. she doesn’t look at him, only looks at me. i tell her “you’re cute together, you seem happy together,” she rolls her eyes. i think to myself that it isn’t fair. 

she says she wants me to be happy, too. she heard about my second date, she asks if it went well while she plants a garden of kisses on my cheeks. i say, “nothing compares to you.” 

she says she wants me to meet her family. she wants to show me her country. her hand is on my back, her fingers are underneath my shirt. she kisses and kisses and kisses my face but avoids my lips. 

i tell her i’ll move out (it’s not the first time i’ve said this). i tell her i’ll move out if that’s the reason she won’t be with me, she doesn’t answer. i tell her that i’d do anything for her, i tell her i love her more than anything. she says “mais, arrête!” because she doesn’t believe me and i say “i promise you,” and i say “i’m sorry, i can’t stop. i wish i could, but i can’t.”

she drinks too much and gets sick, and we have to walk her home. she refuses her lover’s offered shoulder, accepts mine instead. i think to myself that it isn’t fair. 

i walk her all the way home and it feels so far and please, forgive me for cherishing even this moment. i think to myself, maybe i could live my whole life like this. on the sidelines. maybe i could live my whole life just for the nights when she drinks enough to love me / want me / kiss me.  

i call my sister at 5 something AM and tell her “i'm going to ruin every good thing in my life.” she says she doesn’t understand, and i say: “i am in love with this girl in a hopeless, never get over it,  give up everything for her type of way.”

in the morning she says the only thing she remembers about last night is me and her. but she has to ask me if we kissed again and the shame on her face makes me wish i never met her, makes me wish i never existed at all.

and there’s some symbolism in her kissing me for the second time on the same night i went on my first second date in years. it's that i can’t have her but she will always have me, it's that i don’t get to move on in peace. 

Maggie Lane is a queer Californian writer currently based in France. Her work centers on queer relationships with themes of longing, homesickness, language, and belonging. You can check out her poetry on her Instagram.