Eyes Wide Shut

I feel the need to preface this with a disclaimer, because, even to my eyes, it seems very "in love/like". It isn't. It is a slightly poetic description of a flawed friendship, complicated by something that happened that felt so nice that I'm having difficulty reminding myself that having this person as a friend is more important than "just one more time" that will probably eliminate any leftover shards of the easy (or was it?) camaraderie that once existed. The problem is that my head is slowly altering the memories so that I come to a point where I think "fuck it, we weren't really friends anyway, and in 5 weeks, I'll never see him again", or " I like you better when we're making out anyway". On the other hand , I truly think I miss him, but I'm wondering if all the whining about missing my buddy and mourning the loss of a great friendship is a figment of my imagination too. I might be creating false memories of a close connection to give myself and excuse to want to escape the awkwardness, when in reality, its just my hormones speaking.

Keeping my Eyes Closed
I don't know what I want.
I look at you and wonder
How did it feel so good?
Skinny lips, chipped tooth,
But when my eyes are closed
And I cant see who I'm with
I'm with you, with
a perfect mouth, perfect words
Laughter that makes me pause and absorb. The Timbre
of your voice that makes me exclaim out loud to myself how much
I like your voice. I open my eyes and you
make very little sense.
You say stupid things that make me wonder what I'm thinking. You call me "silly girl" and I feel like you ran your nails across a chalkboard.
You see my imperfections and I am ashamed. No, not ashamed, angry. Angry, not because I didn't know they were there. Angry because you see them and too tactless to ignore them.
My eyes are open and I am annoyed by you, for always having to dismiss me. Annoyed at your way of saynig the last word and running away before I can counter. Annoyed because you know I like to be the dismisser, and you have robbed me of my little selfish, childish joy.
Then I close my eyes again and you make me laugh over and over. You remind me of what being carefree was about. You make me giggle and blush with the unorthodox things about me that impress you because you are able to be impressed without using those condescending words. My eyes are closed as you sing my praises to everyone who will sit still long enough to listen. And while my eyes are closed, I enjoy you more. I enjoy your silliness, your random weirdnesses. While my eyes are closed, I revel in your youth, your dreams for who you want to be, your creativity, the ardor with which you want to fly.
And so I keep my eyes closed so I can blot out the pranks, the WTF moments, the I-want-to-punch-you moments, the moments I want to slap myself for allowing the "disrespect", the dismissals.

My eyes are open now, but I long to shut them again, so I can pretend the world only exists in darkened dormrooms with butterfly kisses that make you ask me what I'm looking at.