your face is imprinted on the underside of my skull,
but I doubt I left as much as a mark across your skin.
I tried to gain your appreciation but you were sarcastic
and hardened by enough years of abuse.
I have been abused, let’s share our lack of emotions.
Let’s laugh with the crinkle of our eyes
and show courtesy with the bend of our hats,
creating a secret language that we’ll share across the room
when you pretend you know who I am.
This heart I give to you is forever promised
and held upon my lips to be by your side
until you die.
After that, the heart will be promised to another.
And whether you make it to thirty or not,
I will be younger, wiser,
and better than anyone you’ve ever met
because I’ve studied your limbs,
the way your eyes twinkle when you’re hurting,
the way you smoke your cigarettes.
I know your stupid Midwestern accent.
I know how you like to do your hair,
whether it’s short and straight,
or slightly longer and curled so tightly.
And I have practiced basketball so I can play
just like your favorite player.
And I can skate circles around you,
especially with that smoker’s cough -
Lucky Strike, unfiltered, a pack a day for 3 months.