I never thought I'd wonder
how it would feel to touch your face
but now the thought sticks to my skin, tangles
in my hair. I never thought
your eyes would be anything but blue,
but now they look like swimming holes,
deep and wide and darkened
by pebbles and pond scum.
I'll dive and become
a bottom-dweller, drown
in the swamp of your sight.
No. I don't want to love you.
I don't want to play songs that sound like you
until they become my whole head, I don't want
to write a poem
if you ever call me laughing and cold
She has just showered, and her hair hangs limp down her back, washed of the shampoo she waited five minutes, forehead against the cool tile wall, to rinse off. The sky is ink and charcoal, but then, it has been for hours.
& walk around soho with maxi skirts & matcha & annotate the bell jar in velvet blue ink on curling pages with garamond font & wear my hair long down my back & dark sunglasses pulled up on my head & bangle bracelets that sli
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