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I have been knotting and re-knotting my headphone string 
For twenty seven minutes,
 Trying to re-enact the exact contortion of your fingers interlaced with mine. I have been staring into my coffee for eleven minutes,
 Trying to find the exact shade of the brown of your eyes in it. I have been glancing up at every stranger who passes me by,
 Trying to see if any of them resembled you; 
One had a jawline with the same sloping curve as yours. I have been watching the grey skies outside the pane glass window,
 Trying to find the cloud with the exact billowing contour 
Your cigarette smoke made in the mornings. I have been listening to the metal detector beeping,
 Trying to recall the sound your alarm clock made, sitting on your bedside table,
 Waking you up from a woozy dream. ——- They have announced the boarding call for flight 207 at terminal 6. 
I have a ticket in my hand
 But I am glued to the seat,
 The warmth of the person sitting before me still lingering. Perhaps he had used the same cologne as you; 
The smell was awfully familiar. ——- I have not moved from my seat 
For three hours and twenty three minutes. 
I can feel the eyes of the security guard burning a hole through my back into my chest, 
Trying to judge if I am a criminal or not. I would be a criminal for you, love,
 But it is too late
 You were the one 
 Who stole 
 my heart 
 first.
0
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 12:40 PM UTC
Final Boarding Call
I have been knotting and re-knotting my headphone string 
For twenty seven minutes,
 Trying to re-enact the exact contortion of your fingers interlaced with mine. I have been staring into my coffee for eleven minutes,
 Trying to find the exact shade of the brown of your eyes in it. I have been glancing up at every stranger who passes me by,
 Trying to see if any of them resembled you; 
One had a jawline with the same sloping curve as yours. I have been watching the grey skies outside the pane glass window,
 Trying to find the cloud with the exact billowing contour 
Your cigarette smoke made in the mornings. I have been listening to the metal detector beeping,
 Trying to recall the sound your alarm clock made, sitting on your bedside table,
 Waking you up from a woozy dream. ——- They have announced the boarding call for flight 207 at terminal 6. 
I have a ticket in my hand
 But I am glued to the seat,
 The warmth of the person sitting before me still lingering. Perhaps he had used the same cologne as you; 
The smell was awfully familiar. ——- I have not moved from my seat 
For three hours and twenty three minutes. 
I can feel the eyes of the security guard burning a hole through my back into my chest, 
Trying to judge if I am a criminal or not. I would be a criminal for you, love,
 But it is too late
 You were the one 
 Who stole 
 my heart 
 first.
azalea-banks
Written by
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 12:40 PM UTC
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