She took my hand and with a tilted gaze, spoke with courage. I wanted to throw myself underneath those sheets and close my eyes like a child playing hide and seek. If she can't see me, she can't throw me away. Like the trash overflowing the corner of the workspace in her apartment. The stained wooden floors taken over by discarded papers, water bottles, and broken hearts. I entered her world like a good idea that she later realized was a drunken mistake. Fill the glass to the top and she'd still argue it was only half full. Silly man, that's not optimism.
We wished on stars and eyelashes. Now every time an eyelash falls, I push it to the floor because it makes me feel dangerous. I feel like she'd cry if she witnessed it. Which would make me smile because then I'd know that those nights meant something to us both. Shoot down the stars with my nerf gun, hoping they explode before they enter her atmosphere. Standing on top of that mountain was supposed to make me feel immeasurable. Yet aiming my gun at her dreams made me feel about as big as an ant beneath a giant boot.
Her bare skin left an imprint in my brain. Like plastic forks against a foam container. Running her hands up my legs made my throat clench and my eyes open wide. Feeling her breath next to my ear made the hairs on my neck stand at attention.
Let me buy your love with nickels and dimes and you can use the flower petals as my receipts. Laying naked on the floor we rolled onto, smoking the cigarettes you swear you aren't addicted to. Yet there is the lighter; barely any fluid left and marks against the sides from the walls you introduced your anger to every time you lit up.
You talked of your open sexuality and compassionate beliefs like it was supposed to make me feel like your boyfriend shouldn't care about what we shared in every room of your apartment. Exchanging bodily fluids in the most animalistic ways. Grasping each other like if we dug our nails deep enough, we'd never have to part. Maybe that just made it easier to say goodbye for you. Made it alright.
Will he notice the love notes I wrote in the steam of the bathroom? You'll probably tear them down and go buy whole new mirrors.
