reading folklore, laden
with heady scents.
i am becoming
artificial, like
that idiotic gum
you constantly chew.
((it must be said; i have hated gum my whole life, & yet it looks so good on you.))
immersing myself in the day
that lasted two hours,
only two. told myself
you will not notice anything,
there is nothing to be done.
& with that statement slowly
slipping into a prayer, i
turn my head your way
turn my head your way
turn my head your way
& noticed everything,
everything about you.
down to the detail
of your crooked
thumb.
take great care to stray,
then return & break to bits
in my seat, while barefoot
& sipping teas, & crazily
hoping that you read marquez.
i should let go, fly, be free
before something fragile breaks,
before i realise that you realise
the kind of girl i am, the kind of
fool i will always be. the kind of
worthless worth i hold when you
are standing near me.
you seem to amaze me
in such a way that i
can feel it down
to the bone.