Pulsating track lights.
Resonation.
Sunlight trickling down my neck as it set,
following the same pattern as your fingertips
that afternoon in your kitchen,
dripping like morning sweat.
When there was nothing left to say,
we filled the silences.
I adored your friends before I knew you,
yet my gaze drifted
to your shadow
as you stood behind a sheer black curtain;
no bigger than a toy soldier in my periphery
but I'd already memorised your shape.
I'd know you anywhere.
Sixteen thousand other people saw you,
but none like me.
She asked why I was blushing.
I had no explanation for the way my heart raced
as I remembered whose body I would sleep next to that night.
There you were,
in my sightline,
and yet I ached for you.