Before I fell in love
With triple lattes and the words of Rilke,
I fell into the world
Of his man-boy jawline,
Skipping high school choir dates
And the book-reading thrill
Of library hours so I could
Dream my days into a
Rainbow scope of movie theatre trysts,
An exchanging of knee-bangs
In stiff-backed chairs where
Time stood whisper thin
Between our hungry teenage lips.
Then the Valentine table linens,
Breathless pen-click of love letters,
We meant everything, but not really.
Between basketball game drama
And the dead-weight of a chemistry class
That broke my creative bones
Like a cracking tin roof
I lost him one afternoon,
His eyes not comprehending
The words to songs I loved,
him not understanding
My need to be known,
My Breakfast at Tiffany’s,
The thick universe of text I lived between,
My morning prayers to the great philosophers,
And me, always serving the dopplegangerBy waiting for his Fridays.
Written for a prompt at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.