Wednesday, February 20, 2013

the first night, she screamed
music and her hand was a hornet on my cheek.
i punched the wall of your rooftop staircase when i left-
i'm sorry
[i'm not]. 


she pulled me forward in a Bushwick bar

which was not really a 
country club at all and kissed me in someone
else's doorway.

she tells me that she has a tendency to
change her mind 
[naked and breathing and laughing]
she tells me things and asks me to stay.

[hair smells like hairspray and falls in a curtain around her face and her lips are just as red without makeup and her eyes smile more. 
she touches me like a good book,
like my skin was made of words she hadn't heard before,
she touches me like a hot mug.]




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