the first and last one about you
I tell my friends you don’t cross my mind anymore, been there, done that, and when they ask if we’ve spoken recently I tell them I deleted your number. or was it that you deleted mine? I think about being held. I’ll close my eyes and wish it was your fingers entwined with mine instead of a tall stranger. I think we must be outside because I feel cold. or maybe it’s the storm brewing inside of me and the rain is almost ready to drown us all. I’m lost in my own heart, I don’t know the way out. you find somebody good and you want to hold on. shift and adjust, cross your legs, stretch out your arms, heads on shoulders and lust in eyes. absent-mindedly tracing your name on every surface, not unlike you tracing it into my mouth, like a branding, I belong(ed) to you. asking myself how long it’s been since I lifted my fingers after writing a word and it didn’t burn. if you were wondering about the definition of shame, it looks a bit like this: a lover that can’t leave you alone, a lover that offers you warmth from wasted hours, and whispers of absolutely nothing. could have and would have and should have. this specific shade of shame demands an audience when it walks in, and here we are, every one of my selves.Â
I.A.A.