159: buddy

to the most gorgeous woman i’ve ever seen.

my mind takes moments, post implosion, to comb through the wreckage after i met you, sifting through detritus for the angle of your lips, the corners of your cheeks, the fire in your eyes, your breath hot against the windowpane of the bye & bye, where you drew two curves connecting in the condensed fog. a heart. for me. for you. for us.

i’m slogging through boilerplate conventions, convection ovens of heat and love contained inside my frail frame, a cage of rib bone protecting my life force from floating off into the universe. i am driven to live in the cool shade of your shadow, glancing up at your ass and ancillary beauty. words, they are things that i could speak but they bounce off your tanned skin, and you scan the room for any oasis of astute friends you can conjure up with your sultry eyes.

admittedly, i know my place, perched upon the sidewalk curb kicking cans across the street. the lights shine a little bit brighter around your body, casting me in darkness, but who needs to see me anyway, when they can see you? i’d like you to see me. i’d like that very much, for the edges of your lips to curl in a coy smile of recognition, reciprocated appreciation of my body in proximity to your body. alas, this is darkness in which i reside, not light, and all you see is figures. figures.

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