we slide off,
each in diverging directions
with a slant backwards glance—

and I am caught up in your
eyes, caught up
in the openness of your laugh,
inviting me to stay
just ten minutes
longer in your bed.
inviting my lips to speak
what yours already know:
there is no time
for us, but
let me drown in you
anyway.

—you turn the corner,
that golden beast sinks.

And I won’t see you.

You tell me I’m gorgeous as if I’m allowed to let it mean something.
As if you weren’t across the country.
So I send you pictures of me in good lighting,
as if
that could make you forget:
you’re surrounded by pretty girls.

And we make plans
“let’s do this again”
as if I were ignorant
to the fact that
my best friend liked you—
but it’s not as if
I care, right?

I threw care out the window
when you closed the blinds,
let me run my fingers
through your dark, delicious hair,
when you let your shirt
just slide off,
as if
it were the most natural thing
I could want.

there was
your mouth,
And then
there was
mine.

I can still hear
us breathing,
giggling,
crashing together,
and

I won’t
ever
forget those small,
inconsequential
declarations of attraction—


I am gorgeous,
inconsequential,
****: also inconsequential.
hot: of the least consequence…
until you whispered
—so low I may have imagined it—
beautiful.

And then it changed.
We stopped laughing—
your breaths in my ear
became longer.
my fist became just
my hand,
in your hair.
your hand travelled,
a long journey:
from my **** (amazing, you say)
to holding my face,
a wandering thumb
gliding across my cheek.

And let us not forget
how you stopped
and pulled me closer
before
your lips yielded,
And became more pliable than before,
how
soft and slow,
you kissed me into persuasion.