December 11, 2013 by Wayne.
from the role of love, jilted
stop appearing on unreplied windows
stop helping you into arms that will carry you
to the life of monotony we’ll all inevitably live, breathe, and,
don’t smile, say hello, feel her hair untangle in your hands
Now, we walk afloat on sleepless oceans, waiting again, unbroken chains of a snowy embrace
the begging and the words of reproach.
look here – you said it with a breathless intensity
or, rather, remember the way you wrapped around him, lips urgently dragging across sweaty skin, already drying in the heat
you with the pink sweater, just barely oversized and cable knit
faded huntergreen suedeconverse and
the sort of languid-arms-walk that could pass as a cool fuck-less mannerism if not for the fact that you’d really look better as a series of shots, lined up on a freshly wiped down bartop, romantic (not as a fearful Luddite but with the twinge that comes with watching the evening yellow glint off cherrywood)
who fall in love with people the shallow, ancient way our people do, for their bone structure and the curve of their lips, with short and bitter relationships,
you walked in and smiled and said hi and that was all the apology you needed to make.