while this girl sings the blues

do you know what i am missing today? mental chess with a man who reads. and thinks. and is trying to get me into bed. slightly sinister but at the same time sweet and innocent. i miss the heavy breathing. empty bottles of whiskey and soft packs of camel straights. i miss the men who are passionate and in love with ideas. brilliant writers. i miss real men. i've had too many cowards. too many men who find some sort of romance in never growing out of their teenage angst. i want to hear a heavy low voice read out loud to me. i want the dust to settle on us in the hot summer heat. to be sticky, sweaty, smart and lips and hips bruised and swollen. i want to be fucked slow on a sunday morning with billie holiday singing out through scratchy speakers. cups of tea and cigarettes. lips on necks and nipples during naps in afternoons. i miss being someones sweet honey.. those are the things i miss the most.