i want to be the sidewalk under her soles
the gum in her hair
that dark slick of mascara.

i want to breathe the world from her lungs
settle into her bones and
feel it through her fingers.

there is a perfect mauve i picture on her nails.

so yeah i guess i have a type.
dark hair glasses a threat or two-
enough mystery to keep me busy.
and yeah i should have warned you about my
wandering eye.
temperamental.


but it’s not like you’re real when you’re gone