my hair cut short
and i feel like a boy, boyish
i tie my hair up a lot now and i go on runs and i glare men in the eye on the bus, i do not return their smiles. i feel like a girl anew, reckoning with my personhood and trying to translate it into word on my purple phone. i go back in my memories and the sweetest song plays. it reminds me of hugs. and i think of her; the lost domesticity. tips of fingers, the edge of her eyelashes, her mouth and the harsh words that came out of it. my heart is kinetic sand for her. she can mold me as she pleases. she can do as she pleases. i was never one to deny her. i'll take whatever i'll get.
this,
the only spot on our blue and green planet where i'll let someone else lead the way; holding my hand, in a crowd, i feel like a child. when you're right next to me, sweetness, the only place i want to cry.
in my head
you stand at the end of the long road
a house in the distance
you're not more than a lovely silhouette
it's a vignette; you're the center of my gravity
the pictures of us, i smile boyishly. because i was coy and in love and scared and brave. all at the same time - that's what boys are like, no? very tall buildings box us in. rain, petrichor, the characteristic feeling of it. love love love. i chase the feeling, walk endlessly. nothing feels the same as standing next to you in that hotel lobby.
all these places,
assume a mythological significance
my heart speeds up when i think you're around the corner,
though you never really are
i stay in my memories. i stay watching. on the outside. laughing, getting prettier, smarter, better, but i still miss your hand in mine, guiding me to wherever we needed to be.
as usual, this poem is dedicated. you know her very well by now, yes?
