QUILTED KISSES AND SORRYS

the river

I meet him in Florida.

By the coastline and he had the lips of another girl on his cheek.

He had azure eyes that felt like the river. Dirty, flooded and wet.

He didn't love her,
If he did he didn't love her enough to  keep her.
And he still held my cheeks in his fleshy hands when he was with her. He still told me I was beautiful in front of her.

I knew that if he could do it to her, he sure as hell could do it to me. But that didn't stop me from diving into the river.

He smelt like eucalyptus and Sundays. I could smell his spearmint gum and the aftershave on his face.

We talked about our hometown and music. He played the drums and missed his sister. He spoke with a rusty voice and a copper tongue. He felt like an Arabian twilight. Soft and mysterious with his river eyes and pale as pottery skin. His nose was crooked and his teeth were straight.

He had hair of ash growing through his scalp and the smell of cheap shampoo lathered in it.

But when he asked me if I liked him.

I said yeah.