I should have looked both ways. Instead I followed the way your ribs concave when you breathe like an optical illusion, your lips the remedy, hypnotizing me until I dangled like a puppet in your amazing little show. I danced for you on table tops just to grab your attention, hid my coat in the corner of the kitchen, and stole another beer from the back of the fridge like you stole my heart when you walked in. I created myself, like a piece of art with lines you could tangle yourself into, caves where my passion hung like a stalagmite, glittering in your oppression and hardening with your lust just when the light hit me right. You followed my brush strokes on the page until you got distracted, and I should have looked both ways before I crossed myself into you. I should have noticed the girl behind me in the black leggings and belly that was flatter than your ambition, or the one with the dark hair and cherry lips, but I shouldn’t judge. I’m a carbon copy with a sensible heart and dreams that could fill perfume bottles if only you would take them off the self.