weeds
“Images stuck in your head”
The bathroom in this bar is particularly dirty, like the ones you see in a movie. Tissues cluttering the floor and the smell is unbearable but I followed you in here to have a moment alone with you. There’s a strange hollow in the wall where you place your half-full bottle of vodka and by the way you’re swaying I can only assume it was full at the beginning of this night.
But still, when you ask if I want some I accept. You grab it from the sill and help yourself to a sip before handing it to me, standing inappropriately close to someone you don’t know. I can smell your hair and your breath and without realizing it I’m leaning into you. Your cheek slightly touches mine and you laugh a laugh that belongs to you - my heart flutters.
“Drink up, baby, look at the stars”
The stale summer air is stifling as I pick up the cue and aim for the blue ball. Finally you appear, walking down the long stairs to this enormous empty space. I try to act like I haven’t been waiting, like my night wasn’t depending on whether or not you’d show up. Suave.
As we move on to bowling, I grasp every opportunity to brush past you, breathing you in. Your scent, your soft skin, I can’t help but to reach out and slightly touch your hand as I pass you by when my turn is up. It’s like an intricate dance we’ve secretly rehearsed all spring, synchronized and always just out of reach.
I walk you home, and our words are muffled imitations of conversation. I can’t concentrate on anything but placing one foot in front of the other and when we reach your door all to sudden I pull you into a hug that lasts for too long.
“Drink up one more time”
Your face is lit up by an ambulance passing by several floors below us. On your balcony we take a short break from deep conversation, looking out at the city lights. I try to create a snapshot of your face, all the lines and features, the way your lips move as you ask if I want to go back inside. Your smile, your dimples, how your hair falls into your eyes when you look down noticing I’m staring at you.
Sometimes I can still remember how you used to look, but it seems like a dream now. Just as clearly, I can remember standing outside your building with my insides on fire and warm tears running down my face. The way you would change from hot to cold in seconds, leaving me lost and bewildered trying to find my way home.
I take several breaths of air and start walking down the street, determined to not look back. Determined to not let these questions stay on my mind and in my heart. But I fall, and my pants tear at the knee and I have bruises on my hands and I don’t know where I’m going.
