You’re on it.
I fall right into you.
I think you know.
When you say:
“I wish I would have met you yesterday”
I spoke to a man with crooked teeth this morning.
Tapped my foot.
Craved something.
Nothing less.
(I think I made you up inside my head)
My constant need means beauty.
It pours from me and spills onto you like red wine.
I can smell it on your breath.
I look around the room and in each small thing, the root of a tree.
I feel the branches wrap around me.
“No matter what happens tonight”
I can taste the green.
It defines us.
It gives us a name.
Two bodies.
Separated but occasionally they meet.
To you: It’s everything.
To him: few and far between.
Me: I can’t decide.
Screaming: “Everything is grey. Everything will bleed!”