the movie in you and i
I decide we should be friends,
a decision I make without telling you.
I pretend I do not dream of wired roses wrapped around my finger,
And I pretend that your home hasn’t become mine.
I light a cigarette every Sunday where we first met
And let strangers reveal something else underneath my skin.
We will never look at each other,
Until we close our eyes.
I wonder what were you like 5, 10, 15 years ago.
Does it change anything?
When you know someone feels this way about you.
He tells me it’s because we’re both misunderstood,
A line I’ve already written into a summer existence.
Happiness is the second, third, and fourth that play on repeat,
But that’s not really living, is it?
He tells me this too.
To protect ourselves by living in a loop.
I will avoid answers,
But he does not avoid questions,
Which prompt him to use “us”.
He reaches and I pull back until after he lights another.
Everything you do is for someone else.
And everything I write is for you.
She loves you, and you swear to never tell me.
Vows and the month of May
Can he break something if it was never promised?
This can’t be freedom.
Where did you go, baby?
His question, his hand, the back of my neck.
Words that hold meaning and bodies that hold memories.