Set to the tune of "she" by dodie clark
"Am I allowed to look at her like that?"
"Could it be wrong when she's just so nice to look at?"
Her soft blue eyes twinkled like stars as happiness danced across her cute face.
"I'd never tell, no, I'd never say a word."
" And, oh, it aches. But it feels oddly good to hurt."
I watched as James slunk his hand around hers, smiling as he did. How I envied that man, how he was so lucky to be able to love her the way I wanted her. Yet James treated her like shit. And I watched her come back to him every time.
"She smells like lemon grass and sleep."
My jacket was returned after her borrowing it for three days. It smelled like her, It smelled like birthday cakes and happiness and sleep and all things gold. It smelled of the love I wish she had for me.
"She tastes of apple juice and peach."
Her drunk hands found her way to my chest, sloppily feeling around hoping to feel a heartbeat. She smiled.
"You know, you get cuter when I'm drunk," she bit her lip and looked down.
"You know, you get more beautiful without your douchey boyfriend holding onto your hand," I snickered back.
She lunged forward, crashing her soft lips into my chapped ones. The taste of peach vodka mixed with apple juice dripped from her lips. Yet, I could imagine myself tasting of cigarettes, and the color grey.
"You would find her in a Polaroid picture."
Her soft brown hair delicately fell around her soft face, a few strands in front of her light blue eyes. Her features were soft, soft like warm blankets, fuzzy socks, and new sweaters. She was what sculptors modeled their statues on. Her thin yet curved body was what men craved, what I craved. She was man made beauty.
"And she means everything to me."
"And I'll be okay admiring from afar."
James pulled at her waist, clearly uncomfortable, she went along with it anyways. His harsh giggles rung over the loud music of the party. Watching her stare so sweetly into his eyes was disheartening, yet so comforting.
"Cos even when she's next to me we could not be more far apart."
Her legs were crossed as she sat at the edge of the guest room bed. I stood at the door and watched as so many emotions danced around her face. She looked as if she wiped a tear from her left eye, so I sat next to her. I placed my hand on her back, trying to comfort her. Yet, she seemed so far away, like I wasn't even near her, let alone touching her.
"She tastes like birthday cake and story time and fall."
All I could was imagine her taste, sober. The taste of her bare skin. The taste of her love. I remember James bragging about how she tastes of cupcakes and sex. Once again I envied James.
I always imagined her to taste of frosting and candy corn and sleep. And imagining her soft kiss drove me wild with wonder. She can't taste like peach vodka all the time, right?
"But to her, I taste of nothing at all."
"Cos she smells like lemon grass and sleep."
Her smell quickly faded out of my green hoodie. The scent of gold and sleep and happiness was barely even there. And at that moment I envied James again, how he was always welcome to her scent.
"She tastes like apple juice and peach."
I took a half empty bottle of peach vodka, put it in a scotch glass and mixed with apple juice. I never drank vodka at 2pm but today my thoughts were fucking with me and it reminded me of her.
5 cups later I was half drunk and letting tears slip. Why wasn't she mine, why didn't she leave James for me, why?
"You would find her in a Polaroid picture."
I scrolled through her instagram. Her short black dress looked so nice on her, how she was captured made her look like lost memories of someone worth remembering. She was worth remembering.
"And she means everything to me."
Not proofread.
